Unforgettable
by RMTNDEW
Summary: A lot can happen in six years. But Jayden doesn't know it. After an accident, she loses her memory. As she tries to piece her life together, she has to figure out who she is and what she's been hiding from everyone. Was her memory loss really an accident?
1. Who Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel.

Author's Note: Okay, so I know I said I was giving up the character of Jayden after 'Big Girls Don't Cry' but I just couldn't do it. So here she is again in a new fic. The story is set 6 years after the last one. For those of ya'll who are new to my stories, Jayden started out as a character in a story I wrote called 'Confessions of A Broken Heart'. Then I wrote 'Remember When It Rained', 'Behind These Hazel Eyes' and finally 'Big Girls Don't Cry'. I tried giving her up, but a plot bug bit me and this came out of it. So I really hope ya'll like it. As with the other stories, you don't have to read the whole series to read this one, it pretty much stands out on its own, but if you want to read the others it might clear up some questions you have. Enjoy ya'll!

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Unforgettable

'The existence of forgetting has never been proved: We only know that some things don't come to mind when we want them.' – Friedrich Nietzsche

I'm under the impression that normally when people are woken in the middle of the night by being shaken quite violently they respond in surprise or by fear that something bad has happened. Or perhaps even by hitting the person waking them, considering they were in the middle of a very nice sleep. I, however, have never been normal.

As soon as I felt the hand on my arm, I was awake. I didn't bother asking what was going on, because I knew. And because I knew, I didn't hesitate.

Immediately I jumped out of bed and got dressed. I grabbed my tooth brush and brushed my teeth on my way downstairs. By the time I got there, the jet was loaded and ready to go. I boarded, buckled myself in and prepared for the flight. It didn't last long but I managed to get a bit more sleep in.

Once we had reached our desired location, I strapped on a parachute pack and double checked my gear. Then I watched my team mate jump from the jet. I counted to three before following him, jumping from the jets ramp into the ink blue sky.

No matter how many times I jumped, every time it managed to take my breath away. Flying without wings, soaring through the air as the wind blew against my face; it was one of the most amazing feelings in the world. It was one of those things that never seemed to get old. If I had my choice, I would live there, in the sky, in that moment forever.

"Look alive, kid. It's almost time to pull your chute," I heard a voice growl in my ear.

I smiled and felt the wind flap my gums. "Ten-four, furry-face. I was just enjoying the ride."

"And to think," Logan started, "you used to be too scared to even jump alone."

"I also used to be scared to bungee jump, go white water rafting and even sleep in a room by myself," I said, pulling the cord on my pack. My chute opened, caught wind and pulled me back some. My descent slowed down to a slight fall and I saw the ground underneath me for the first time. "Thins change, Logan. So have I."

"Unfortunately the only thing that hasn't changed about you is your insistent need to talk when you're supposed to be quiet," Scott's voice said in my ear. "Haven't the two of you ever heard of 'radio silence'?"

"Haven't you ever heard of not buttin' into other people's conversations? We're the ones on the mission. You're in your nice comfy jet," Logan said.

"Yeah, real nice and comfy," Scott said. "Do you know what's going to be even better? When I get home and get to go back to sleep in my nice warm bed."

"Screw you, Slim."

"Come on boys, play nice," I said, but couldn't hold back my laugh.

Scott said something, but I didn't pay any attention. The ground was rushing up faster to meet me and I had to prepare for my landing.

I kept my legs together and crossed my arms over my chest. In a matter of seconds my feet were touching the ground and I immediately went into a rolling position. I kept my head bowed, tucked into my chest, in order to keep from getting tangled up in my chute or the ropes from it. My first couple of missions jumping I had made the mistake of keeping my head up and on one mission I ended up with the cords twisted around my arms and neck. I was going in and out of consciousness when Logan found me and sliced the rope and pulled them away.

I didn't make that mistake again.

As soon as I stopped rolling, I pushed myself up into a crouching position and began gathering my parachute up. I looked over to my right and saw Logan doing the same thing. Once he was done, he walked over to me, still crouched down.

"We gotta make our way over there," he said, pointing to an electricity tower about three miles away. There was a light on top, blinking.

"What are we after?"

Scott had explained the mission to Logan before I had gotten to the hanger. I honestly didn't know what I was meant to do other than jump out of the jet without getting killed.

So far I was doing an awesome job.

"We're knocking out the power for the whole town."

"Any particular reason why?" I asked, stuffing the last of my chute into my pack before putting it back on.

"Yeah. They've got the three corners of the city set to blow up at midnight."

"Okay, first I should probably ask where we are, right?"

He let out a sigh and shifted his position. It was the dead of night but I could see the weathered expression on his face. He was tired.

"We're on target, that's all you need to know."

"All right. So how is cutting the power off going to keep anyone from blowing up Nowhereland?"

"Summers has it on good authority that one of the detonators is hooked up to it. We knock out the power, we take it out of business."

"And what about the other two?"

"He says this is the main one. It goes out, the other two automatically go out."

"Seriously, if Summers knows so much about this, why isn't he here instead of us?"

"Good point. Don't know," he said. "Let's go."

Quietly and quickly we made our way across the large grassy field of…well, I still wasn't sure where we were. But it was dark and grassy. And we made it through it almost without a hitch. Unfortunately I was so focused on following Logan, I stepped on a snake, which just happened to be a copperhead. Fortunately when it struck, it hit my foot and its fangs couldn't penetrate the material of my boot. It didn't, however, keep me from screaming like a little girl and kicking it twenty feet away from me.

"Are you done?" Logan asked, sounding impatient.

"Yeah, sorry to inconvenience you by being bitten by a snake," I said sarcastically. "Next time I'll just slowly die while you continue on."

"It can't bite you through your shoes or your uniform. So unless you bent down and let it bite your face, you're fine," he said. "And if you're that stupid, you deserve to get bitten."

"Dude, I have venom oozing off my boots."

"And you just punt kicked a protected animal."

"Like you really care about that crap."

"What I care about is makin' it to that electric tower before the town actually blows up. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, I don't."

"Good, 'cause I wanna get this done and go back home so I can sleep."

"Then let's go. Why are you just standing around here talking like we've got all the time in the world?" I flashed him a smile and he just shook his head.

And we continued on our way. Once we made it to our target, Logan climbed up the tower.

"You climb that tower, Curious George," I called up to him.

He swore and said something along the lines of, 'Kid doesn't ever shut up,' before reaching the power lines. Once he reached them, he severed them, thrusting the town in the valley below us into darkness immediately. Moments later, just as Logan landed on the ground beside me, fireworks began to light up the sky.

"Looks like we made it in time," I said.

"Yep."

I looked over at him and saw the bright colors in the sky reflecting on his face, changing his skin from red to blue to green.

"Happy New Year, Logan," I whispered to him.

He gave me a small smile. "Happy New Year, Jayden."

We stood there for around fifteen minutes, watching the firework display. Neither of us spoke. We were both lost in our own thoughts. I was personally happy that the year was over. I had the chance of a new start, a new beginning. The New Year always brought so much possibility and I just wanted a part of it. I wanted to forget the old and start all over again. I wanted a clean slate.

But it wasn't that easy.

Once the fireworks were over and we were sure that our mission was actually accomplished, we left.

Our meet up point was ten miles from where we were. We had to climb down off the hill we were on, through a ravine and to a clearing large enough for Storm to land the Blackbird when she traded off duties with Scott and came to pick us up. As soon as Logan and I started on our way, we radioed to her. If everything went right, we were set to meet up at the exact same time.

Logan and I had been on enough missions together to settle into a rhythm. We rarely spoke when working. We both enjoyed what we did and we were both good at it. There was no need for us to talk; we could practically read the others mind. So we walked in silence, focusing on getting to our meeting point.

My body was in the mission, but my head was elsewhere. I was planning out my schedule for later that day in my mind.

Do laundry.

Change bed sheets.

Meet Tony for lunch.

Buy Lily the leopard print sweater she wanted.

Make a more realistic set of New Year's resolutions.

Call Mom.

I was contemplating what to wear on my lunch date with Tony when I felt my foot give way to the side of the hill where we were walking. I didn't have time to react before I began to fall. I slid down the hill, my hands reaching out, trying to grab anything in an attempt to stop myself. But it was all moot. My hands grabbed nothing more than grass, weeds, dirt clumps and rocks. When I reached the bottom of the ravine, I was a little sore, but okay.

And then I saw the large rock rolling down the hill behind me. I never ever felt it hit my head.

The moment my eyes opened, my head began to pound. Once I adjusted to that, I had another problem: Where was I?

I sat up, ignoring the pain in my head. I was in some sort of mass hospital room. There were no less than twenty hospital beds, none of which were occupied. I scanned the dark room quickly. I saw no one. I seemed to be the only patient.

I pushed the covers off me and stood up from the bed. I was wearing a pair of gray flannel pajamas that seemed far too big for me. My feet were bare against the cold tile floor. My head pounded and I felt dizzy. I felt my body sway and my knees buckle. I grabbed the side of the bed to hold me up and kept my head bowed until the dizziness has passed.

Then I continued my inquiry of the room.

I walked carefully though, not knowing where I was or who else was there. My first assumption of the room being empty was correct. I was alone.

I turned to search the room once more. Along one side there was a door that led to a bathroom. It was dark and also empty. Then I saw a clear glass door to my right. I didn't think as my feet moved me towards it. I reached out my hand to open it, but there was no handle. Suddenly it struck me that maybe it wasn't a door: Maybe it was an observation window.

My mind began to panic even more as questions raced through it.

Where was I?

What had happened to me?

Then my mind paused. Wait…_who_ was I?

But I didn't have time to think. I could see a figure moving closer to the door/observation window and everything inside of me screamed 'Hide!' I turned back around and searched the room for a hiding place. I spotted the bathroom door and ran to it. I stepped in and closed the door as quietly as possible. I kept the lights out and pushed myself as close to the wall as possible.

My heart was racing, my head was pounding, and my mind was reeling.

I felt my breathing become erratic and I tried to calm and quieten it down. When I couldn't, I clasped my hands over my mouth to muffle out the sound.

And then I listened.

I heard a 'whoosh' sound.

I heard whistling.

I heard footsteps.

I heard it all stop.

"Jayden? Are you in here?" a man's voice called. "Jayden?"

Was that me? Was _I_ Jayden? I didn't respond. Instead I kept my place in the bathroom, trying to make as little noise as possible.

I heard footsteps start once again, coming closer. I listen as they continued to get louder and louder until finally they stopped just outside the door. The sliver of light that had shone through the crack underneath it was blocked, allowing only partial remnants to filter through.

My mind was panicking, but not all of it. Some part of it was processing the information I was receiving. It was telling me that by the sound of his feet, the way he walked, the man outside the door was somewhere between six feet two and six feet four inches. He was around two hundred pounds. And if I needed to, I could fight him off.

Why did I know all of this?

There was a knock on the door. "Jayden are you in there? I got some coffee; I'll half it with you if you want. I mean, I know you drink yours straight, but coffee's coffee, right?" he said and I heard him laugh lightly. "Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need me to get Dr. McCoy?"

There was a moment of silence and I thought he might leave. Then I felt horror roll through me when the handle began to turn and I realized that I hadn't locked the door. It pulled back and light spilled into the room. The man standing there smiled at me.

"What are you doing? Playing hide and seek?" he asked.

I moved the hands from my mouth. "Who are you?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Is this another one of your 'who are we really' conversations? Because we just had one the other day. I really didn't think I was due for one for a few more weeks."

"What?"

"It's a joke. Really, I don't mind those conversations. They're deep and telling. They help me get in touch with my emotions." He gave me a smile but when I didn't return it, it fell. "What's wrong?"

"Who are you?"

"Well, I know I haven't shaved in a few days, but I don't look _that_ different. Besides, you always wanted to know what I looked like with a beard, right?"

I was nervous and scared, but somehow I found my voice. "Who _are_ you?" I demanded.

"Jayden it's me, Tony."

"I know you?"

"Yeah, you do," he said. "You don't remember me?"

"Should I?"

"Well…yeah, you should."

"Do we know each other well?"

He nodded. "Very well," he said, giving me a small smile. "We know each other quite intimately."

"_How_ intimately?"

"_Very_."

"Well I don't know who you are, so maybe I just got drunk one night and we slept together, or something," I said. "Maybe I'm just a drunk whore, because if we know each other _that_ well, I think I would remember you. And I don't."

"You're _not_ a drunk whore, okay? Because you've only been drunk once, on your twenty-first birthday. You got hammered, I took you back to my apartment, you puked your guts out and kept yelling at me to make you macaroni and cheese and get you a Popsicle."

"Why would I want macaroni and cheese if I was puking my guts out?"

"You know, I wondered that quite a bit myself, actually."

"So maybe I'm not a drunken whore, maybe I'm just a regular whore. Maybe I've slept with a bunch of guys and that's why I don't remember you."

"You're not a whore. I was the first person you were ever with and to my knowledge, I was the last. I was the _only_ one," he said. "I think anyway."

"Then why don't I know you?"

"You hit your head; your dad said a rock fell on you. Dr. McCoy said you would probably wake up a little confused. He just didn't say _how_ confused, exactly."

"I am _not_ confused. Because that would involved confusing facts, ideas, _something_. But I _don't_ know anything, okay? I don't _remember_ anything." I stared at the stranger in front of me and tried to comprehend knowing him, but I couldn't. "_I_ don't know who _I_ am."

"What?"

"I don't remember anything."

"Nothing at all?"

"No."

"What's the last thing you _do_ remember?" he asked.

"Waking up in here."

"Okay, so when you say you don't remember anything, you mean it literally."

"How else would I mean it?"

"I don't know. Figuratively, I guess."

"No, I mean it."

He nodded and stared at me for a moment. He appeared to be thinking.

He wasn't a bad looking man. He was about half a foot taller than me, had dark hair, dark brown eyes and dark skin. He had a nice smile and equally nice teeth. Actually, the more I looked at him, I realized he was very attractive.

"All right, well…why don't you come out of the bathroom and stop hiding, or whatever it was that you were doing, and come sit down? You can just rest and I'll go get Dr. McCoy. Okay?"

I hesitated for a moment but eventually I stepped out of the bathroom and stood beside him. I looked up into his face and searched his eyes. I tried to find something, _anything_, that told my gut I shouldn't trust him. But I couldn't. Instead I felt a warmth coming from him. I couldn't explain it, but it was very comforting.

"Who's Dr. McCoy?" I asked.

"Well, you call him Hank. He's your friend, but he's the doctor here."

"In this hospital?"

"Actually this is a school, a boarding school to be specific. But this is the medical wing of it."

"Why am I in a boarding school?"

"You live here?"

"Am I a student?"

He laughed. "No, because if you were that would mean that by sleeping with you, I would be committing a very serious crime. And I try to enforce the law rather than break it."

"You're a police officer?"

"I'm a detective, yeah."

"Okay, so if I'm not a student, why am I here? Am I teacher?"

"No, but you're father is and he lives here. You moved in with him about eight years ago. You never left after that."

"How old was I?"

"Eighteen."

"Eighteen plus eight is…" I started adding the numbers in my head.

"It's twenty-six," he said. "You're twenty-six years old."

"You said you've known me since I was twenty-one."

"Before then, actually. But yeah, I did."

"How do we know each other?"

"It's a little complicated."

"I can't remember anything before ten minutes ago. Your story can't really be any more complicated than that."

He smiled, showing his perfectly straight, white teeth. "It's good to see that even though you've lost your memory, you haven't lost your humor," he said. "Why don't we sit down and I'll tell you. You're looking a little pale."

"I feel fine," I said. Then I took a step and my knees buckled. I fell and landed hard on the floor.

The man bent down and helped me up. I didn't have time to protest before he was helping me walk over to the bed I had been occupying and sat me at the foot of it.

"It's also good to see that you still lie when you don't want people thinking you're weak," he joked.

"What did you say your name was again?"

"Tony. Tony De Luca."

"Well, thank you Tony," I said. "I wasn't trying to keep you from thinking I was weak. I just didn't realize I was still dizzy."

"You're welcome," he said. "Why don't you just sit tight for a second? I'm going to go get Hank and have him talk to you. He can probably explain this all better than me."

I nodded. "Okay."

I watched as he turned to leave. He excited through the door that I had thought was an observation window. He opened it by pressing a button on the wall. It made a 'whoosh' sound as it slid open. Once he was gone, my mind began to race once again.

I was terrified. I had no idea what was going on. It was like when I tried to reach for a memory, all that came up was a blank wall. There was nothing.

And yet I felt my instincts taking over. Keeping me from having a panic attack. Somewhere some part of my brain knew what I had to do and did it without prompt or protest. As I sat there, I saw in my mind's eye my brain making lists of what I had learned since I had woken up, dividing it off into columns.

My name was Jayden. I was twenty-six years old. I lived in a boarding school. I had been there…_here_, for eight years. And I didn't like people to think I was weak.

Tony De Luca was someone I had apparently known quite intimately and had shared – did share? – a very close relationship. And apparently how we knew each other and/or met was a very long and complicated story.

My father was a teacher who taught at the school where we lived. And from the way Tony talked, I had moved there to be with him, implying that he and my mother were no longer married or lived in the same city. Perhaps even state.

A man named Dr. McCoy, or Hank, was the school's doctor and my friend.

And that was all I knew. There was so much more I could feel hiding in the corners of my mind. I just couldn't grasp any of it.

I waited in the dimly lit room by myself for five or six minutes before I heard the door slide open again.

"Tony tells me you're having a bit of a difficult time remembering things," a man said from behind me. His voice was proper and dignified. Somehow almost English sounding. It was kind and soothing. But not familiar. "So what exactly _do_ you remember, my dear?"

I looked over my shoulder to finally see the source of the voice, to see if this Dr. McCoy's face were any more memorable than his voice. But what I saw wasn't man. It was some sort of monster. A tall creature covered in blue fur, with blue skin and wearing a pair of khaki pants with a gray V-neck sweater stood in front of Tony. There was no way that this thing could be a doctor. And he definitely wasn't my friend. He was barely human, if at all.

I stood from the bed and began backing up defensively, putting as much space between him and me as possible. "Who are _you_?" I yelled, scared by his appearance.

"Jayden, it's me, Hank. Don't you know me?" he said.

"No," I said. "So just stay away from me."

"Are you certain you don't remember me?"

"I think I would remember a huge, blue furry man!" I yelled at him. "So just stay away from me."

"Jayden, calm down. This is Hank, Dr. McCoy. He's one of your best friends," Tony said.

"I don't know him!" I screamed, pointing at the two of them. "I don't know either of you!"

"You _do_ know me," Dr. McCoy said. "But you have amnesia."

I pointed to Tony. "He said I was his in the head with a rock. Is that true? Is that what happened?" I asked. "Is that why I can't remember?"

"More than likely, yes. It's quite common for patients to experience some type of memory loss after suffering some sort of fall or blow to the head."

"Tell me what happened to me, then. How did I get his in the head with a rock?" I asked, my voice starting to calm down the more I got used to seeing him.

"You and Logan -"

"Who's Logan?" I interrupted.

"He's your father," Dr. McCoy explained. "And you and he were doing something to help people, to keep them from getting hurt, and when you were done you were walking across a hill and fell. Your fall knocked a rock loose from the hill and when you landed, the rock fell on you, knocking you in the head. We were certain that you would at least have a headache, but you've taken harder falls and hits before. None of us were prepared for amnesia. We all thought it was a miracle that you didn't have a concussion."

"Do I often get concussions?"

He nodded. "Yes, you've had quite a few mild ones."

"Well, did none of you consider the fact that accumulative brain damage might possibly result in memory loss at some point? If not death? I may not remember anything about my life, but I know that suffering multiple concussions isn't healthy. You're supposed to be a doctor, don't you know that?"

"Yes, I do. And I've warned you about it countless times," he said.

"And what did I do about it?"

"Nothing. You would give me a kiss, tell me you would try to be a bit safer, and inevitably end up back in here with some sort of injury."

He looked down at the floor, shook his head, and then looked back up at me. And for some reason, he seemed less frightening. Even when he smiled and showed me his long, sharp eye-teeth, I didn't notice them right away. I didn't understand it, but I was feeling something coming _from_ him, just like I had with Tony. It was like a wind blowing warmth off his body and to mine. I felt it sink into my skin and fill me up. An ease and sense of comfort was what I felt looking at him.

How could I have thought of him as a monster?

"You always were very strong willed, my dear. I could do nothing to persuade you to do anything other than what you had your mind set on. It's what makes you very dedicated to your family and doing what you believe is right," he said.

"When will I get my memory back?" I asked, easing myself towards him and walking back to where he and Tony were standing.

"I'm not sure. It could only be a couple of hours, a few days. Or…it could take months. Unfortunately there's no way to determine when your memory will return. You just have to give it time."

"And what am I supposed to do meanwhile?" I asked.

"I don't know. I suppose you just do your best to learn as much as you can about your life and hope that something might trigger a memory."

"Hope? You're a doctor; shouldn't you do something more scientific than _hope_?"

"I may be a doctor, but I'm human as well. And we all must cling to some sort of hope. Otherwise we would all go mad."

"Sorry, but I think I'm there already."

He smiled at me once again. "You're in very good company, then. Your father is mad as well."

"Is he?"

"Yes."

I looked at him and over to Tony, who had been silent the whole time. "You two keep talking about my father. Where is he?"

"He's upstairs in his room asleep," Dr. McCoy answered. "Shall we tell him to come down?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Tony stayed behind in the room with me as Dr. McCoy left to get my father.

"You know, you could have warned me of what he was going to look like before you went and got him," I said. "I may not have been so shocked."

"Sorry," he said. "I forgot. Besides, you didn't warn me about it either the first time I met him."

"I didn't?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "You forgot that he looked differently."

"Yeah, he's _blue_, how did I forget?"

"Because to you, he's just Hank. He's one of your friends, you tell him everything. Him being blue is your last concern."

"Well I don't remember anything. So now it's my first concern."

"It _was_. What made you change your mind about him? You went from removing yourself as far away as possible from him and screaming hysterically, to standing right in front of him and smiling," Tony said. "So what happened?"

"Do you ever feel things from people? Like…senses, or something?"

"No."

"You never feel warmth coming from someone? Or any type of emotions?"

"No."

"Never?"

"I _read_ people, that's all. I used to be a criminal profiler, so I can pick up on emotions, but I don't feel them the way that you do."

"What do you mean?"

"You're clairvoyant."

I shook my head. "I don't understand. What's clairvoyant?"

"Well you see things, they're called visions. You can also sense things from people, like their emotions. And you can feel other people's energies. That's what you were feeling from Hank."

"But you don't feel it?"

"No, it's your mutation."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a mutant; clairvoyance is part of your mutation."

"What are you talking about? I'm a mutant?"

"Well…yeah, yeah, you are."

"Is that what's wrong with Dr. McCoy? Is he a mutant?"

"Yes."

"Does everyone at this school know that?" He nodded. "And they're all okay with that? With us being here?"

"_Everyone_ here is a mutant. That's what the school's for. You help out and teach kids and teenagers who are mutants in a safe environment."

"You sound like you're reading a brochure."

He smiled. "The brochure for the school isn't quite that straight forward," he said.

I nodded. "You know, you never told me how we met."

"I didn't, did I?"

"No."

"Well, uh…we knew each other when we were younger."

"How?"

"I was friends with a guy from school and you were friends with his younger sister," he said. "He died and we didn't see each other again for about ten years, or something. Then my brother got married to an old school friend of yours. We met again at the reception."

"I thought you said it was complicated?"

"There's a bit more to it than that."

"Then tell me."

"It's probably best if we go slowly. I don't want to overwhelm you."

"Fair enough," I said. "But one question."

"Okay, ask away."

"We dated, right? I mean, we slept together and seemed to hint at the fact that there was more there."

"You're right; we did date, yeah."

"How long?"

"Four years."

"But we _did_ break up?"

"Two years ago."

"Then why are you here? I mean, it's not really normal for people who've broken up to still see each other, is it?"

"No, not really. But we've never been very normal, so those rules don't apply to us."

"Why aren't we normal?"

"I don't know. We just never were."

"Is that a bad thing?"

He smiled. "No, I don't think it is."

"Why did we breakup?"

"You said one question."

"Yeah, but I lied."

"Listen, I told you; I don't want to overwhelm you with all of this. Why don't we take it slow and see what you start to remember on your own?"

"Just one more thing, okay?" I asked. He nodded. "Were we in love?"

He ran his hand back through his hair and let it rest on his neck. "Yeah, Jayden, we were in love."

"Well, maybe we can use this whole me forgetting everything situation to our advantage and get to know each other again."

He gave me a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

I let out a sigh. "Okay, so you don't want to overwhelm me with that stuff, but what about everything else? Am I allowed to ask about it?"

"Like what?"

"How about my full name. I mean, I can't possibly be just Jayden, right?"

"No, it's not. Your full name is Jayden Abelia Rivers."

"Abelia?"

"You changed your middle name from Hope to that about five or six years ago. You had Logan pick it out for you."

"Why?"

"It's probably better to ask him. He knows the whole story behind it better than I do."

"Okay," I said. "But what does it mean? Because it's obviously not English."

"Not, it's not. It's Hebrew," he said. "It means 'Breath'."

A thought flashed across my mind and I tried grabbing it, but the more I held on, the quicker it left me. Was it a memory?"

"Are you okay?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, I just…I think I remembered something."

"What?"

"I don't know," I said. "A mountain I think." I shook my head in frustration. "I don't know. It was probably nothing."

"Maybe not, but if it is, that's a good sign. Give it a couple of hours and you may start to actually remember things."

I nodded and gave him a weak smile. Then I saw Dr. McCoy walking back towards the door with a man following behind him. "Is that man with Dr. McCoy my father?"

Tony looked over his shoulder and then back to me. "Yeah, the man with the scowl would be Logan," he said just as the door slid open.

"I heard that De Luca," the man said, walking into the room.

"Sorry, sir," Tony apologized.

"Don't call me 'sir'," he said. He walked right up to me and stopped less than a foot away from my face. I looked up at him, into his eyes, and saw him staring down at me. "McCoy says you don't remember anything."

"No, I don't," I said, continuing to look into his eyes. Something about them felt so familiar. "But…I think I know you."

"You do."

"I mean, I think I might _remember_ you…kind of," I said, stuttering out the last of it. His eyes were familiar, but they were also intimidating. He looked as if he could snap and kill us all at any given second. I gulped at that thought.

"What do you remember about me?"

I shook my head. "I don't know exactly. I see a really bad hotel room, or something. A yellow light. I feel a pain in my head." I reached my hand up to my head to indicate where I felt the pain. When my fingers touched my scalp, I felt a scar. "What happened to my head?"

"You fell in an alley. I told you to get stitches, but you didn't want to go to the hospital."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're stubborn."

"I am?"

"Yeah," the three of them said in unison.

"Okay, so apparently I am."

"De Luca, McCoy, give us some time alone. I need to talk to my daughter."

"Okay, we'll be in my office if you need us," Dr. McCoy said.

The he and Tony left the room for the one adjoining it, leaving just the man who called himself my father and me.

"How you holdin' up?" he asked once they were gone.

"Okay, I guess."

"How do you feel?"

I shrugged. "A little confused, angry…_very_, very unsure."

"What about physically?"

"I have a really bad headache, my back's a bit sore. That's about it, though."

"Good. I'll get Hank to give you something for it in a little bit," he said. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So what do you remember?"

"This is the third time I've been asked that and the answer is still the same: I only remember waking up in here. Nothing else."

"You remember the hotel and bustin' your head open."

"Barely."

"But you still remember it."

"Why were we in a hotel? Where were we?"

"We were in Canada. You were trackin' me down."

"Why?"

"You didn't know who I was and you wanted to find out."

I shook my head. "I don't understand. How could I not know who you were?"

"I didn't raise you."

"Okay, who did?"

"Your mother did until you were three, then she gave you up for adoption. You were adopted when you were four by your parents who moved you from Canada to California. You lived there with them 'til you were eighteen."

"And then I moved here. Right?"

"Before you moved here, you came and found me in Canada."

"How did I know how to find you?"

"Did they tell you that you see things?"

"You mean that I'm a mutant?"

"Yeah," he said. I nodded. "Well you saw me. You didn't know who I was, but you couldn't stop seein' me, so you decided to find me and find out who I was. You stole three hundred dollars from your parents and ran away from home. Two weeks later, you found me."

"But I didn't know who you were?"

"No."

"Did you know who I was?"

"Not to begin with, no."

"Then how did either of us figure it out?"

"Something about you was familiar. I couldn't figure out what it was at first but then I remembered it was the way you smelled. It was the same as when you were born."

"You were there when I was born?"

"Yeah. But I didn't see you again 'til you came to find me."

"So when you remembered, you told me?"

"No. You saw it in a vision. You figured it out on your own."

"So then we both came here together after that?"

"You went back to live with your parents. You were there for three or four months before you moved here."

"And where is 'here' exactly?"

"Westchester, New York."

"So I moved completely across the country to live with you even though I barely knew you?"

"Yeah."

"Did anyone else think that was a slightly odd move?"

"Not many people knew you were my daughter then."

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. We just didn't tell everyone."

"Tony said you changed my middle name from Hope to…something else, I don't remember what it was."

"Abelia."

"Right, yeah, that. He said it was Hebrew for 'Breath' and that I should ask you about it."

"What do you want to know?

"Why you picked that name, I guess. And, if you know, why I see a mountain when I think of it?"

"We were on a mountain when I told you I'd picked that name."

"So why did you pick it?"

"I'm a mutant, too. My mutation lets me heal. I've been in a few scraps before and nearly died. The only reason I came back was 'cause of you. You keep me breathin' so I thought it fit."

"So are we pretty close, then? Even if I didn't know you and you didn't raise me? Because that seems like something you would only do if we were close."

"Yeah, we're pretty close, kid."

"Good. Tell me what to do then."

"What?"

"Tell me what to do. If I hadn't lost my memory, if this had all happened without that, what would I be doing now?"

"Probably in your room takin' a shower or gettin' ready to go out with Tony."

"Why was I going out with him?"

"I don't know. You were supposed to be goin' out to lunch today. You were probably goin' Christmas shoppin', or something. Who knows?"

"When is Christmas?"

"It was last week."

"Why would I go shopping for a holiday that ended a week ago?"

"You wouldn't. It's for next year."

"I go shopping a year in advance?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're obsessive."

"How obsessive?"

"Very."

"Have I always been that way? I mean, as long as you've known me anyway."

"You like to be in control. You plan everything out so you don't miss anything. You make lists constantly," he said. "It's kind of annoyin'."

"I'm sorry," I said. Even though I didn't remember doing any of it, or really even remember him, I still felt the urge to apologize.

"Don't be. You know it annoys everyone, you don't care."

"Okay, so aside from shopping for Christmas a year in advance, what else would I be doing? How do I handle these types of situations?"

"You've never been in this type of situation before," he said, his mouth turned down in a frown. "But you always talked about it."

"Why?"

"I've had some problems with my memory. You always thought about how you would handle it if you were me."

"And what conclusion did I come to?"

His frown suddenly became a slight smirk. "You always said you'd probably panic and start cryin'."

I allowed myself to smile at him. "Well, I haven't started crying yet, so that's a good sign."

"Yeah, well, you usually do handle things better than you think you will."

"Do I often get myself in bad situations?"

"Yeah, but generally you end up with a broken bone or a concussion."

"Dr. McCoy mentioned the concussion thing but he didn't say anything about broken bones," I said. "How many have I broken, exactly?"

"You've broken both of your legs and arms, multiple times. You almost broke your neck once. An inch further to the left and you would've been dead. And you've had more sprains than anyone can keep up with. Hank's file on you is pretty thick by now."

"And what do I do to get all of these injuries? A broken leg or an arm could just be bad timing. But multiple breaks _and_ sprains? Do I play sports or something?"

"No, you suck at sports."

"Well that's a lovely thing for a father to say."

He gave me another smirk. "I've said worse things to you, darlin', trust me."

I stared at him for a moment. "You know, oddly I do," I said. "So if I don't play sports, then what do I do?"

"You fight."

"I fight? What do you mean I fight?"

"You have amnesia, not brain damage. You know what fightin' is."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me; you keep actin' like you don't know what I'm talkin' about, when you do. You keep this up and you ain't gonna learn anything."

I was taken aback by him but didn't know what to say. He had just told me that he said worse things to me but I didn't realize that he was going to turn around and prove it. A part of me was upset, confused. I didn't know this man, why was he treating me this way? But another part of me was angry. I _didn't_ know him so who did he think he was?

"Look, I'm not completely sure you are who you say you are. But if you actually are my father, that doesn't give you the right to treat me like I'm an idiot, okay? I woke up twenty minutes ago not knowing anything. Not my name, not where I'm at, and definitely not what's going on. And I still don't know that everything that all of you have told me is true. But I didn't _choose_ to loose my memory and excuse me if I'm a little confused but I'm trying to string together twenty-six years of my life, or so I'm told, in small conversations with you, Dr. McCoy and that Tony guy. So I don't know if you generally talk to me like this, but you're not going to do it now."

"Don't trust me."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"I said don't _trust_ me. Think that everything we told you was a lie. How would you figure it out yourself?" he said, clasping his hands behind his back and staring down at me. "How would you know who you were?"

"I wouldn't."

"Wrong answer."

"No, right answer. Amnesia is, by definition, a loss of memory."

"No, you don't _loose_ memories, they're still there, you just can't reach 'em."

"Do you think I'm not trying? Because I am. I'm not just standing around here waiting for the answers to be handed to me."

"Yes you are. You keep askin' what you would do -"

"I asked you twice -"

"- When you know _exactly_ what you would do."

"How would I know? I don't know _anything_."

"No, you don't _remember_ anything, but you do still know it. It's in there somewhere."

"And you think that yelling at me is going to help?"

"I'm not yellin' at you. When I do, you'll know," he said. "Now forget everything that De Luca and McCoy told you. Forget everything I said, too. If no one had been here when you woke up, how would you know who you are? What would you do?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do. Think."

I took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Well, I knew I was in a hospital of some sort when I woke up. I guess I would have tried finding a doctor to tell me who I was -"

"No. How would you do it on your _own_?"

I shook my head and then something caught my eye. At the end of the bed I had been sleeping in, I noticed a clipboard and walked over to it. "My medical chart," I said, picking it up. It had my name, age, birthday and medical diagnoses on it, confirming everything that they had told me about myself so far. "Eventually I would have found my file and saw who I was."

"What else?"

I put the clipboard back down. "I…I don't know."

"Yes you do, kid. Come on, keep thinkin'. How're you gonna find out where you are? Why you're here? What happened to you?"

"I would…" I kept thinking. What would I do?

I looked around and saw nothing new. Nothing useful. My mind desperately wanted to find some sort of clue, but I didn't know what I was looking for. My eyes flicked across the room, scanning it in a way that almost made me dizzy until they settled on the button that opened the door.

"I guess eventually I would have found the button that opens the door, too."

"And what would you've done when you got out there?"

"That I _don't_ know because I haven't been out there. I haven't been outside of this room since I've woken up."

"You don't have to know what's out there to know what you would do."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "I would probably panic and cry like you said I told you I would."

"But you'd keep tryin'."

"Trying to what? Get out? You said what would I do to figure this out on my own, so why would I need out of the building? It would be dumb to leave because I don't know where I am. And I couldn't go to the police."

"Why?"

"Because they wouldn't know who I was unless I have a rap sheet of some sort. And if I don't know who I am or where I live, what could they do?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly. So I'd be better off on my own and staying here. But I would have to find out where 'here' is first. So despite your rule of doing it on my own, I would have to find someone. A doctor or a nurse who knows where I live and have them help me get back home. Once I'm there, I would more than likely have pictures, videos, _something_ of me with other people that might help me remember."

"Not bad. It's not the best you've done, but it ain't bad."

"Not the best _what_ that I've done?" I asked, exasperated.

"Drill," he said, turning away and walking towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To your room. You comin'?"

"Yeah. It just would have been nice if you would have told me that's what you were doing."

"If everyone told you what they were doin', you'd never figure it out on your own."

I let out a sigh but didn't say anything. Judging from his reaction from my last comment, there would be no point in my even saying it. He wasn't going to care of acknowledge it, so why bother?

As I followed him out of the hospital room, we walked into an office. Dr. McCoy and Tony were sitting there.

"Where are you going?" Tony asked.

"My room, I guess," I said.

"Oh, well…okay," he said. "I guess I'll see you later then?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

There wasn't another word spoken as I followed my father out of Dr. McCoy's office and into a long hallway. The walls, ceilings and floors were made completely out of a flat metal. The lights that ran along the ceiling reflected in the metal, bouncing off one wall to the next, even the floor. There was no need for extra lighting, the room lit itself.

I didn't know where we were going, the hallway seemed endless. But no matter how little I knew about the man walking in front of me, I somehow trusted him. So despite it all, I continued to follow him. And before long, he had led me to an elevator. He pressed a button and the doors slid open. Once he stepped in, I followed after him. He pressed the button for the second floor. We rode the elevator for less than thirty seconds before it stopped and the doors slid open again. He stepped out and I followed.

He took me down a hall where we passed half a dozen kids. All of them muttered a 'Hey Mr. Logan, or a 'Hi Miss Rivers'. I didn't know the kids, but the obviously knew us.

I continued to follow him, finding all of my surroundings totally unfamiliar. Did I really live there? Was this really my home?

After a couple of minutes, we turned down a hallway that was completely quiet. He pointed to a door on his right. "That's my room in case you ever need me. You don't usually bother knockin', you just barge right in. But you might wanna start if there's anything you don't wanna see."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I said.

He walked a few doors down and stopped at one on his left. "This is your room."

I moved in front of him, opened the door and walked in. The room was all white except for the wall that the head of my bed was up against. It was sky blue. My bedspread was a furry leopard print, my sheets were hot pink, and the bed was unmade. There were pajamas throw haphazardly onto the floor beside it. It looked as if I had gotten ready to leave in a hurry.

Other than the rather messy bed and set of pajamas, everything else seemed to be in perfect place. Nothing looked out of order. It was almost eerie.

There was a nightstand, a dresser, and an armoire. I had a desk, a big armchair, and a large, floor to ceiling bookshelf that was completely full. There was a TV stand holding a TV, and DVD player and around fifty DVDS. And one wall was solely devoted to pictures. There had to be over a hundred, at least. They were all different shapes and sizes, and all of different things. Some were people, though the only ones I somewhat recognized were my father, Dr. McCoy and Tony. The others were of people I had no idea who they were.

But I remembered none of it.

"Did I take these?" I asked, pointing to the wall of photos.

"Yeah."

I walked closer to the wall, looking closely at the pictures. There was one in the middle, it was of my father. "Who's that with you?" I asked, indicating to the picture.

He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. "That's you, darlin'."

"It is?"

"Yeah. You took it about seven years ago."

"I look like you," I said. He just nodded. "Where were we?"

"Florida."

"Were we on vacation?"

"Kind'a."

I looked away from the picture to him. "What do you mean 'kind of'?"

"You were havin' a mental breakdown. Chuck, the guy who owns this place, sent you down there to keep you from losin' your mind completely."

"What happened to me? Why was I having a mental breakdown?"

"You were in love with someone who was married."

"Tony?"

He laughed. "No, not De Luca. He's never been married, probably never will," he said. "Someone else."

"Who?"

"No one that you need to know about right now."

"Why not? What if it helps me remember?"

"Yeah, I doubt it."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause it's not a big deal anymore," he said, and then muttered, "and my life's better for it."

I let out a sigh and looked around the room. "Okay, so what do I do now? None of this is bringing back any memories. And I'm completely out of ideas."

"You've been awake for less than thirty minutes and you're _already_ out of ideas?"

"Well, yeah, pretty much."

"What would you do on your own?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

He ran his hand over his face. "Why don't you take a shower, put on some of your own clothes, then we'll go downstairs and find something to eat? Maybe once you're cleaned up and fed, your brain might start workin'."

"My brain hasn't stopped working," I said. "I'm not sure what it is you want from me, but I'm trying really hard here, whether you believe it or not."

"If you were tryin', you wouldn't just be standin' here, lookin' at pictures and askin' me what to do."

"What _would_ I be doing then?" I asked, raising my voice. "Because I don't know! All I know is what I _am_ doing, and that's doing a freakin' good job at not panicking. You have absolutely _no_ idea what it's like to wake up and not know who you are!"

"Yeah I do," he said, stepping closer to me. He stared right down at me and I felt a shiver run down my spine. He was practically primal looking. "I woke up nearly thirty years ago, stark naked and covered in blood. I was alone in a field, in the middle of winter, and I didn't know who the heck I was or what I was doin' there. It was weeks before I found another person and I spent that time takin' care of myself and figurin' everything out on my own. I didn't wake up and ask the first person I saw who I was. So don't tell me I don't know what you're goin' through, girl."

"Sorry," I said, looking away. "I didn't know."

"Yeah you do. You know all about it. You've seen it, all of it."

"Well I don't remember." I let out a shaky breath and looked back up at him, trying to meet his eyes without getting nervous. "What happened to you?"

"Someone erased my memories, or tried to. I've been tryin' to remember 'em ever since then."

"You said it was thirty years ago, you couldn't have been very old. Why, or how even, would someone erase your memories?"

"They wanted to use me as a weapon," he said. "And I'm older than you think."

"How much older."

"A lot."

"That's not a number."

"Fine, around a hundred, I don't know."

"A hundred? Really? How stupid do you think I am? I mean, honestly."

"You asked for a number, I gave you one."

"I meant a _realistic_ one."

"It _is_ realistic."

"So you're what? A hundred and forty, then?" I shook my head and took a few steps away, turning my back to him. "I'm going to find either Tony or Dr. McCoy. They were a little weird but they didn't treat me like an idiot or mock me."

I began walking towards the door, hoping that I would be able to find the doctor's office again without getting lost. I had only taken a few steps when I felt a hand on my arm. "I'm not treatin' you like an idiot and I'm not mockin' you. You wanna know the truth? I honestly don't know how old I am. I don't age like everyone else."

"Why not?"

"I told you earlier; I'm a mutant."

"You said your mutation was healing."

"It is. My body regenerates so it slows my agin' down, but it doesn't stop it."

"I still don't understand."

"And you ain't goin' to right now."

I pulled my arm out of his grasp. "Do you happen to be Bi-Polar by any chance?" I asked. "Because one minute you seem to be pretty nice to me, then the next…I don't know, you all of a sudden snap at me. Seriously, what's the deal?"

"I don't have one, it's how I am. You're the exact same way."

"Okay and that may have been fine before, but right now I need you to be a little patient with me. All right?" He didn't say anything. "I need, you, so _please_."

"Fine, I'll try."

I didn't say anything for a moment as I thought. I didn't want to ask him what I should do because he seemed to get irritated every time I did. So I decided to stay quiet as I tried to figure out what I needed to do on my own.

"Look, I think you were right earlier when you said I need a shower and to put on some real clothes and get something to eat. Maybe if I can…I don't know, get into my old routine, or something, I might be able to figure some of this out," I said. "So, if you don't mind, would you please excuse me and let me take a shower?"

"Yeah. If you need me, you remember where my room's at?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"All right. I'll be there. When you get ready to get something to eat, come get me and I'll take you down to the kitchen."

I gave him a small faked smile. "Okay."

He the moved past me and started towards the door. "You're tryin' too hard. Stop worryin' or you'll never be able to remember anything," he called back to me. "The more you let it go, the more you'll remember."

"Yeah, I'll do that, thanks."

I waited until I heard him walk out of the room and close the door before I turned around to make sure he was gone. Then I sat down on the floor right where I stood.

I ran my hands over my face and back through my hair. I realized for the first time it was down and hung just below my shoulders. I pulled a hand full of it out to where I could see it and saw that it was a medium brown. It looked the same color as my father's.

I let out a sigh and shook my head.

I had to know who I was somewhere in my head. I may not have been able to remember it right then, but I was going to. I just had to find the right trigger.

But right then, I just wanted to cry. So I did. I allowed myself to break and panic, and to finally let the emotions I had been pushing back since I had woken up to wash over me. I was lost, _completely_ lost, and scared out of my mind.


	2. I Hate This Part

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to any of them. What a shame.

Sidenote: I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up. Everyone in my house was hit with a sudden, and unwelcome, stomach flu. It's not been fun. But it's finally up, so enjoy!

* * *

I sat in the floor of my bedroom for probably five minutes crying before I sucked it up, got out of the floor and decided to start _doing_ something.

I didn't understand it, but something in my brain kept screaming that I needed to pay attention, what if I was in a trap? But the moment the thought left, another took its place; why would someone want to trap me? Why would I be that important?

'_You and he were doing something to help people, to keep them from getting hurt.'_

-

'_What do I do?'_

'_You fight?_'

My job. I did something dangerous. An officer, a special agent, a bounty hunter. My mind ran over a list of possible jobs that would involve helping people and fighting. But I didn't know and I couldn't think.

I dried the tears off my face with the end of a sleeve from my pajama top, took a deep breath, and looked around the room. _My_ room.

Every part of it was built up of my personality. What I liked, what I listened to, what I watched, read, wore. Everything. There had to be some clues to help me start remembering.

My eyes darted around until they landed on the bookshelf. I was standing on the opposite end of the room from where it was placed and yet I could see of the book titles perfectly. I scanned the shelves, one by one, until finally, six rows down and twelve books over from the left, I saw books on criminology, forensic science, criminal profiling, interrogation techniques, and one on nearly ever topic and theme of criminal justice I could imagine.

I walked straight across the room and grabbed the closest book to me and opened it up randomly to a chapter about suspects. There was a picture of a large dry erase board that had several names written on it, with lines drawn between them, showing how they were all connected, all leading to one sole person: The victim.

'_That's what I need to do_,' I thought.

I needed to make a list of everyone I knew and how they were connected to me. My father said I made lists obsessively, so maybe I needed to trust my instincts and go with what I did naturally.

I took the book and moved over to the desk to my left. I looked through the top drawer and found a blank notebook. I grabbed and ink pen from a cup on the desk and placed it on top of the notebook and tried to sit it where I would see it when I got out of the shower to remind me to get it. I thought I could ask my father some more questions about me over lunch. If I kept a record of them, even if they didn't set anything off in my mind right away, they might if I read over them later.

Feeling good about my idea, I left the desk for my closet. I pulled back the double doors and was surprised by what I found. I had asked my father if he was Bi-Polar but I should have asked if I had Multiple Personality Disorder.

First of all, the closest was immaculate. Everything was organized brilliantly. T-shirts, short sleeved shirts, blouses, skirts, dress pants, and dresses. They were all hung in perfect order, not an item out of place.

There was a shelf on top of that held sweaters folded and stacked neatly on one side, and folded and stacked blue jeans on the other.

On the inside of one of the doors, I noticed a few sheets of paper taped to it with notes written on it.

It was a color chart. I had color-coded my wardrobe.

I had put strips of colored tape on the hangers to tell me what went with what, what was see-through and needed to be worn with a slip, what was too short to wear to 'nice' functions. There were at least a dozen different notes that went with the colors, explaining the task they were assigned to.

And yet none of that helped me to understand how the same person could have both a fifties-esque black and white polka dotted dress _and_ a pair of leather pants in the same closet.

Part of it looked like I had stolen a motorcycle gang's look and the other as if I had gone shop happy at Katherine Hepburn's estate sale. Or perhaps a very wealthy old man had given me some of his clothes as charity, judging by the plaid pants and blazers.

No wonder I had to color-code it: I would never have known that any of the contents went together otherwise.

"I'm completely insane," I muttered to myself, shaking my head.

I let out a sigh and pulled down the first pair of blue jeans from the top shelf. They looked and felt like they would be comfortable, so I didn't bother looking through the others. After that I grabbed a grey T-shirt off a lavender coded hanger and closed the doors. I just needed some underwear now.

I walked to the dresser and opened up the top drawer. I found what I needed and added it to the pile of clothes. But I was curious and continued looking through the other drawers. I had one for wife-beater style tank tops and T-shirts. I assumed they were pajamas but I looked at the shirts anyway, just to make sure. Near the bottom of the pile, two caught my attention. One said NYPD, the other FBI.

Maybe I worked for one of them?

But still, nothing came to memory. So I closed the drawer and want into the bathroom. I closed and locked the door behind me. I sat the clothes I had with me on top of the dirty clothes hamper that was bright green, and began pulling off the flannel pajamas I had on.

The moment I had my shirt off, I noticed something: I had a tattoo.

On the inside of my right wrist the words 'Hinc Sola Salus' with the numbers '45825243' written under it. I had no idea what it meant; I just knew it wasn't English. Maybe it was Hebrew, like my middle name?

I finished undressing and then looked at myself in the mirror. I looked unfamiliar even to myself. Like I was staring into the face of a stranger. My hair was brown, straight and shoulder length, like I had thought. My skin was tan and my eyes were hazel. I looked just like I had in the picture of myself with my father when we were in Florida. Only older. And with a huge bruise on my forehead that had a small knot formed under it.

My body wasn't fat by any means, but I definitely wasn't skinny enough to be walking down any runways anytime soon. But I had muscle. I could feel it in my arms, my legs. I could see it in my stomach. So I did work out and take care of myself. Or at least I looked like it, anyway.

I moved to get into the tub and gave myself one more look in the mirror, from behind. I had more than one tattoo.

There were three on my back. From what I could make out in the mirror and trying to read it backwards, there were two on my shoulders and the one on the left said, 'Sic vis pacem para bellum'. The one on the right was 'Gnothe seauton'. And another one ran down the length of my back, right along my spine, and said 'Concussus surgo'.

I didn't know what any of them meant.

I shook my head and ignored them. I would have to ask what they meant. That was, assuming that anyone knew I even had them. I wasn't sure _how_ close I was to them for them to know. Although Tony and I had apparently been quite intimate, so perhaps he was the person to ask.

I stepped into my bathtub and reached for the water facet, but as soon as my hand came in contact with the metal, images flooded my mind. I fell to my knees as I saw a body submerged in water, hair floating over her face. She was unconscious. She was drowning.

As soon as my vision returned to normal, I fell back against the back of the tub, drawing in a deep breath.

What had just happened?

I didn't know, but I wasn't willing to stay around to see if it would happen again. I immediately pulled myself out of the bathtub, grabbed the white robe from the back of the door and slipped it on. Then I picked up the clothes I had brought in with me and left. I walked back through the bedroom, opened the door and went out into the hall. I turned right, walked a few feet down the hallway and knocked on the door that I hoped was my father's. I heard footsteps falling, getting closer, until the door opened.

"You okay?" he asked, looking me up and down.

"No. I think someone died in my bathtub."

"What?"

"I think someone drowned in there."

"No, no one died in it."

"I saw…I don't know _what_ it was exactly, but I saw someone, a girl, in the tub. She was completely underwater and she was unconscious. She was _drowning_. She had to have been."

"She didn't die," he said.

"Then what happened? Did someone find her? Pull her out? Give her CPR? Because without that, logically, she would have died."

"She didn't die," he said again. "No one pulled her out. She was in there for thirty minutes. And she wasn't unconscious; she was asleep."

"She fell asleep in the bathtub, she was submerged for _half an hour_ and she didn't die?"

"It wasn't for lack of tryin', I'll tell you that much."

"How did she survive?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does to me. You didn't see what I just saw."

"I've seen it."

"When? When it happened?"

"Yeah."

"Who was she?"

"It was you," he said. "About seven and half or eight years ago you tried killin' yourself."

I felt my stomach drop. "What? Why?"

"You thought I was dead and you decided you didn't wanna live anymore either."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"I don't…I don't even understand. Why would I do that?" I asked. "_How_ could I do that? And survive, I mean."

"I don't know. But you haven't tried it since then, so that's all that matters."

I felt a twinge of something from him. Something felt off. He was lying. "You do know how I could do that," I said. "So how?"

"Professor Xavier, Chuck, the guy I told you who owns this place, he's a psychic. I don't know what he did exactly, but he kept you from drownin'."

"Why didn't he just come get me out?"

"'Cause he's crippled, kid. He can't walk. But I owed him a lot for savin' you."

I took a deep breath and tired to just accept what he was telling me, not judge it or pick it apart. I had done it, it was part of me, so take it and move on.

"Okay, so yeah, not trying it again is a good thing, I guess," I said. "But actually the reason I'm here isn't to ask you about that. When I touched the water facet, I saw all of that. I was scared if I touched it again I might see something else, so I was wondering if maybe I could use your shower instead."

"Yeah, that's fine, come on."

He moved out of the way and let me into his room. The moment I stepped inside I realized where I had gotten my neat streak. For some reason I had pegged him as being sloppy, messy, a complete pig. I never would have imagined that someone who looked like him would be so well organized.

I pointed to the door on my left. "Is uh, is that your bathroom?"

"Yeah," he said. "Your shower broke a few months ago so you've still got some of your stuff in there."

"All right, thanks," I said, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear. "What do I call you, by the way? Because the only thing I've been referencing you as is 'my father', but you said you didn't raise me and I was adopted, so I wasn't sure."

"You call me Logan."

"_Just_ Logan?"

"Yeah."

I nodded. "Okay, Logan it is."

"Go on and take your shower. You'll feel better when you get out."

I didn't say anything; I just nodded again and made my way over to his bathroom. It was just as tidy as his bedroom. I closed the door, locked it, and placed my clean clothes on top of his sink counter. I took off my robe and hung it up on the hook on his door. I turned on the water, stepped inside, pulled the shower curtain closed and turned on the showerhead. It sputtered for a few seconds before it began to rain down on my head.

And I did all of it without seeing any weird images of me looking dead.

I let the water wash over me, letting go of my fears and allowing them to run down the drain with the water. I was terrified, and rightfully so, I thought. But instinctively I knew I couldn't let that get in the way. If I was ever going to figure any of it out, I had to keep a steady head. Logan was right; I couldn't just stand around waiting for someone to hand me the answers. I had to find them myself. I had to act. And something inside of me was so excited about the idea of action. Of getting to not only solve a puzzle, but to _live_ one.

I had a very twisted brain.

I found the stuff in his shower that I assumed was mine, because he just didn't really look like a Pumpkin Pie Spice body wash kind of guy, and I used it to shower as quickly as possible. I hadn't noticed it before, but suddenly I realized how hungry I was, and the smell of my body wash wasn't exactly helping much.

I hurried and was out and drying off in less than five minutes. I dressed, combed my hair with a comb I found on his counter and took deep breath. This was as good as I was going to get.

I grabbed my robe and opened the door, walking back into Logan's bedroom. He was on his bed, reading a book.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

"'And The Sea Will Tell'," he said, putting in a playing card as a bookmark and closing it.

"Is it any good?"

"Yeah, it's all right," he said, standing. "You bought it for me."

"I did?"

He nodded. "Yeah, about four years ago."

"For your birthday or something?"

"No, you just saw it and wanted to get it for me."

"Did I do that often?"

"You used to. You worked at a bookstore for a while. When you saw a book you knew I liked, you bought it." He gave me a small smile. "Then a couple of weeks later you would steal 'em so you could read 'em yourself."

I smiled back. "So really I bought them for _myself_?"

"Kind'a," he said. "You hungry?"

"Yeah, starving."

"Good. Let's go then."

"Okay, but I need to put this robe up and grab a notebook from the room. Is that all right?"

"What do you need a notebook for?"

"You said I made lists obsessively, right? So I thought maybe I could make a list of things about me that might jog my memory."

"Might work," he said. "Come on, let's go."

He led me out of his room, back to mine. I put my robe up and grabbed my notebook, then I followed him down the hall. He informed me that it was the Teacher's Wing. Then we turned a corner where we had seen all of the kids earlier when he was showing me to me room, and he told me it was the Student's Wing.

I kept following him as he led me down a huge staircase. He took me down another hall, passing several rooms before he finally took me into one last room. It was a massive kitchen.

"So what do you wanna eat?" he asked.

"I don't know. What do I like?"

"Pretty much anything but celery and cardboard."

"Why not celery?"

"Don't know, just makes you sick. You almost throw up whenever you smell it."

"That's a little weird."

"Yeah, a little."

"Okay, so I'm not a picky eater. But what do we have to eat?"

He opened the refrigerator. "Leftover Chinese," he said. "You like General Tso's and cashew nut chicken. You want it?"

I shrugged. "Sure," I said sitting down on a barstool at the island in the middle of the room.

I sat quietly and stared around me. Something felt familiar about it. I just couldn't understand why it felt that way when none of the other rooms had. What was so special about a kitchen?

"Why does this room feel different from the others?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. It feels more familiar than the other ones. Why is it so special?"

"A lot's happened in here."

"Like what?"

"Stuff," he said, putting two cartons of food in the microwave and turning it on. "You want something to drink?"

"Yes please," I said, continuing to take in the room.

He went back to the refrigerator and pulled out a canned Coke then sat it in front of me. "Thank you," I said, opening it. I took a sit and sat it down before setting my notebook on the table in front of me and opened it. "So how should I do this, do you think? I already know my basic information: Name, age, location. That sort of thing. What should I ask about now?"

"Whatever you want, I guess," he said, leaning up against the counter behind him and crossing his arms over his chest.

I looked down at my hands and saw the black ink on my wrist. "Okay, how about my tattoos. I know you have to know about the one on my wrist, it's pretty obvious. But do you know about the other?"

"The five on your back?"

"_Five_?"

"What? You got more? I told you six was the limit, kid. You better not have more than that."

"No, I don't have _more_. I just…I only saw three on my back. The two on my shoulders and the other going down my spine."

"You've got two on your neck."

"What are they?"

"Japanese symbols for Strength and Honor. You thought 'cause I lived in Japan for a while I might not mind 'em as much."

"Did you?"

"No more than the others."

"Fair enough," I said, making a note in my book.

_Tattoos: Six. One on wrist, two on shoulders, two on neck, one down spine._

"What do the others mean?"

"The one on your left shoulder is an old sayin', it means, 'When you want peace, prepare for war'. The one goin' down the middle of your back means, 'When struck I rise'. They're both Latin. The one on the right shoulder, it's Greek. It says, 'Know Thyself'."

"And on my wrist? What does it say?"

"It's says 'This is my only salvation'."

"And the numbers."

"They're mine," he said. "Used to be mine."

"From what?"

"A set of dog tags."

"Like in the army?" He nodded. "Where you in it?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"A few different years, a few different wars. Doesn't matter what year or what army, though. It's all the same."

"So _you're_ my salvation?"

"It's what the tattoo says," he said, giving me a bit of a smirk.

I made a few more scribbles in my notebook, then looked back up to him. "Okay, next questions; what do I do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Job wise. Dr. McCoy said you and I were helping people from getting hurt, you said I fought and then in my room I saw a whole shelf full of books on criminology and criminal justice, and stuff like that. Plus in one of my drawers I saw that I had a shirt with NYPD and another with FBI on it. So do I work for them or something?"

"No, you don't work for 'em. They came from De Luca, Tony, he worked for the FBI but he's with the NYPD now. He gave 'em to you," he said. "And the books are 'cause you studied forensic science for less than a year before you quit school, you read the other books tryin' to figure out if you wanted to do it instead."

"Did I?"

"No," he said. "You just kept makin' coffee at a bookstore."

I shook my head. "I don't do that anymore."

He squinted at me. "How do you know that?"

"I don't know, I just do," I said. "So what is my job?"

"You work here sometimes; you help out McCoy or me with classes."

I shook my head. "Why aren't you telling me the truth?"

"'Cause right now you don't need to hear it."

"And if you keep keeping things from me, I'll never be able to figure any of this out. So _what_ do I do?"

He stared at me for a long time before he shook his head. "Fine," he said. "You're an assassin."

"I'm being serious. What do I do?"

"Yeah, I'm bein' serious, too."

I studied his face. He wasn't lying. "No, that's…that's not right. That would be…well, that would be _illegal_."

"Not if you're employed by the government that's makin' the rules,"

"I'm an assassin for the government? No, that's impossible. I can't…no, I just _can't_."

"What was it Nixon said? 'When the President does it, that means it's not illegal.' Same thing for you. It's not illegal."

"No, so not the same thing," I said. "I mean _I_ assassinate people? That doesn't make sense. How could I kill someone?"

"With your hands. You think guns are too messy. Sometimes a knife, sometimes drugs. Different stuff."

"No."

"Yeah," he said as the microwave signaled it was done.

"I'm sorry, but assassination is murder. I can't kill people for a living."

"But you do."

He took the two cartons out of the microwave and sat them on the counter. He pulled two plates down from a cabinet above his head and divided the contents of the cartons onto them. He placed one in front of me and kept the other for himself before taking two forks from a drawer, giving one to me. Then he sat on the seat across from mine.

"You're completely serious? I'm an assassin?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm completely serious."

"And you don't have a problem with this?"

He shrugged as he took a bite of his food. "Can't have much of a problem with something I taught you how to do."

"_You_ taught me how to kill people?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"'Cause you wanted me to."

"And you just said yes? You didn't have any qualms about me saying, 'Hey, teach me how to commit murder, please'?"

"No, not really," he said. "You got a good head on your shoulders, I don't worry about you as much as I used to."

"You don't worry about me as much now that I'm killing people? What in the world did I do _before_ that, then?"

"Before this job came along you were depressed 'cause you were in your twenties, a college dropout and workin' at a bookstore. You're good at this and you like it."

"That's really messed up," I said. "How can you sit there and tell me that I have a good head on my shoulders and then say I actually _enjoy_ what I do?"

"'Cause you don't kill people who don't deserve it."

"Then who do I kill?"

"Murderers, rapists, child molesters. You kill people who should never be allowed to hurt anyone again."

"And that's what we were doing last night?"

"No."

"Okay, so what were we doing?"

"Keepin' people from settin' a bomb off in Mexico."

"But it had something to do with my job, right?"

"No."

"Then why were we there?"

"I just told you; we were keepin' people from settin' off a bomb in Mexico. Pay attention, kid."

"_How_ did we know there was going to be a bomb there?"

"Professor Xavier, the guy I keep tellin' you about who owns the school, he's psychic. Whenever something like that's gonna happen and he sees it, he tells us and we try and fix it."

"Who are _we_?"

"You, me and four other people here."

"So…what? We're a team or something?"

"Yeah."

"And in _that_ job I save people, but in my other, I kill them?"

"First of all, it ain't a job; none of us get paid for it. No one knows who we are and we like to keep it that way," he said, pointing his fork at me. "And second of all, you kill people doin' both of 'em and you save people doin' both of 'em."

"This is insane."

"Yeah, you've said that a few times," he said sarcastically. "Eat your food or it's gonna get cold."

I ignored him. "What part of the government do I work for?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"_Why_ don't you know? You seem to know everything else about me."

"You never told me, I never asked."

"You didn't think it was important to know who your daughter was working for?"

"No, I trust you. You know what you're doin'. You told me when you were asked to come work for who you're workin' for, you tell me when you're goin' on a hit, and you tell me where you're gonna be and what time you're supposed to be home in case you're late and you need me to come get you outta trouble."

"Have I ever been in trouble?"

"No. In four years I've never had to bail you out," he said. "I told you; you're good at it."

I took in a deep breath as I tried to decide whether or not I wanted to write any of that down. I decided against it. "Okay, so how am I supposed to do my job if I don't even remember having it?"

"You told 'em you wanted a break for a few months. They shouldn't contact you about another job until the summer sometime."

"What was I planning on doing for money until then? I mean, this is what, the end of December, the beginning of January? That's a long time until summer."

"You've got money to do you, don't worry."

"How much?"

"Enough."

"How much is enough?"

"A million, maybe more. I don't know; I don't keep up with your money, kid."

I literally felt my jaw drop. "You're joking, right? I have a _million_ dollars?" I whispered.

"Yeah, something like that."

"And all of it's from killing people?"

"As far as I know."

"That's…that's a _lot_ of money."

"What's a lot of money?" a man asked as he entered the room, surprising me. He was wearing sunglasses.

"None of your business, Summers," Logan said, practically growling at him.

The man ignored him and gave me a smile. "I thought you were having lunch with Tony today," he said to me. "What happened?"

"Who are you?" I asked.

He face twisted, his expression becoming one of confusion. "What?"

"She has amnesia," Logan said, taking another bite of his food. "She doesn't remember anything."

"Are you serious?"

"No, I'm lyin' about it," he said sarcastically. "Yeah, I'm bein' serious."

The man turned to me. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"What do you think, Scooter?" Logan snapped.

"I meant _aside_ from the obvious," he said.

"I'm okay, I guess," I said. "Just…blank, I suppose."

"What happened?"

"She fell down a hill and a rock fell on her head after last night's mission," Logan answered.

"That must be where the bruise on your forehead came from," he said. "And you don't remember anything?"

"No, sir." He smiled at me and gave a small laugh. "What's funny?" I asked.

"Nothing. You just haven't called me 'sir' in…_years_," he said.

"What do I call you?"

"My name, Scott. Or my last name, Summers. Sometimes you just call me 'dude'."

"I call you '_dude_'?"

"Yeah, you call everyone that."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You just always have."

I made a note of it in my notebook.

_Habit: Calls everyone 'dude'. Reason: Not sure_.

It may not have been an important bit of information, but I didn't care.

"Okay Scott, do we know each other well?"

He smiled again, showing dimples underneath the short layer of stubble growing on his face. "Yeah, we know each other pretty well."

"How well?"

He looked over at Logan who cocked his eyebrow at him and all but snarled. "We've been friends for a long time. We know each other _extremely_ well," he said. Then flashed Logan a smile.

"How long have we known each other?"

"Since you were eighteen. I was the one who came to your house and invited you to live here. We hit it off pretty much right away."

"I thought I came to live here because of Logan," I said.

"You did, but…" Scott trailed off.

"But what?"

"Your parents didn't know who I was then. They didn't know you were comin' here 'cause of me," Logan said.

"Why did they think I was coming here?"

"You ran away to come find me, you were gone for two months. When you went back to California, your parents thought you were crazy and made you see a shrink."

"That still doesn't explain why they thought I was coming here."

"Allow me," Scott said. "As eloquent as Logan is, he sometimes has trouble speaking. I think he's still used to living in a cave." I laughed and Logan growled. "Your parents _did_ send you to a psychiatrist, but once you explained to him what happened and _why_ you left home, he understood. And the owner of this school contacted him and suggested that it might be good for you to stay here for a while -"

"Your parents sent you here 'cause they thought you were nuts and needed help. They were tryin' to 'fix' you when there wasn't anything to fix," Logan said, interrupting.

"Yes, thank you," Scott said, looking to me. "What did I tell you? Eloquent, right?"

I laughed. "Would you get what you came to get and stop flirtin' with me daughter?" Logan growled out. "She's lost her memory; not her common sense."

"Well being your daughter, it's a miracle she ever had any at all."

"I take it that the two of you don't get along very well," I said.

"Only when we have to," Scott said.

_Logan: Hates a man named Scott Summers. Thinks he flirts with me. Not a bad looking man. Not Logan; Scott - That would be creepy_.

I laid my pen down before finally picking up my fork and eating. I tried not to think about this new man, Scott, in the room with us. Logan told me not to try so hard, that it would keep me from remembering, but I couldn't help it. There was something about him that was familiar. It was just on the edge of my mind; I just couldn't grab it.

"I do know you," I said.

He turned around from where he was making a sandwich at the counter and looked at me. "What?"

"I remember you."

"You do?"

"Kind of. I just can't remember _what_ it is I remember."

He gave me a small smile. "Don't worry too much about it. I'm sure this will pass and you'll get your memory back soon."

"I hope so, because right now this sucks."

He laughed. "I know. But you've got a knack for figuring things out when you need to. You'll be okay."

I didn't say anything; I just gave him a smile in return and studied him. He had black hair that was just long enough to show that the ends were wavy. I could see streaks of gray creeping in at his hairline, just above his ears. I couldn't tell what color his eyes were behind the red lenses of his glasses. He looked to be around six-foot-three.

He was an attractive man, that was for sure, but why was he more familiar to me than Dr. McCoy who was supposedly my best friend? Someone who stood out enough on their own would likely to stand out in my memory, I thought. Or why was he even more familiar than Tony, who I supposedly dated for four years and was quite close to?

What was so different about him?

I continued eating and was mid-bite when I saw something flash across my mind.

Scott and I were outside. It was snowing. I had cuts and bruises all over my face and neck. He carefully, gently, ran his fingers over the bruise on my neck. I immediately felt a shiver run over me. He looked in my eyes. I was telling him something, but I couldn't hear it. My voice was muted. I was still talking when he cut me off by kissing me.

When my mind came back to the present, I was still staring at him and I could tell that despite his eyes being hidden, that he was staring at me too.

Who was he to me?

"Daddy, daddy, guess what?" I heard a voice yell followed by loud foot patters down the hall. "Aunt Rogue bought me a really cool sweater."

A girl no older than six came running into the kitchen. She had black wavy hair that was pulled up into two high pigtails and big, bright blue eyes. She looked just like Scott.

She tugged on his shirt. "Do you want to see it, daddy?"

He dusted his hands off on his pants. "Absolutely, sweet pea. Show it to me."

She pulled a black sweater out of a bag and held it up to her, showing him the front of it. "See, these are like my ribs and then this is my heart. And when I move, it lights up. See?" she said, shaking the sweater, showing how the heart lit up.

"Well it sure is a very anatomically correct sweater."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I think it's very nice. I like it, sweetie," he lied.

"I'm sorry, Scott. I tried talkin' her into gettin' a sweater that was purple and had a bow on it, but she said it was a stupid girly sweater and she wanted that one," a woman said walking into the kitchen after her. She had a thick southern accent and a white strip of hair down the middle of her ponytail.

"It's fine, Rogue. Thanks for taking her shopping," he said to her. Then he smiled down at the little girl. "Are you hungry? Did you and Aunt Rogue eat while you were gone?"

"She bought me a big cookie and Starbucks."

Scott looked up at the woman called Rogue and she shrugged. "What? I got her decaf."

"She's _six_."

"I was five when I started drinkin' it. I turned out just fine," she defended.

"By whose definitions?" Logan asked with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

"By mine," she said, walking over and kissing his cheek. "And I must seem all right by yours or you wouldn't have kept me around this long, would you now, sugah?"

"What're you talkin' about? I've been tryin' to get rid of you since I met you. You can't take a hint, darlin'."

"Funny. It's usually the men who don't take the hints," she said, giving him a wink. Then she looked over at me. "How're you doin' Jayden? Logan told me you got his last night and that's a pretty nasty bruise on your head. Are you feelin' alright?"

"She's got amnesia," Logan said to her, dropping his voice.

"What's that?" the little girl asked.

"What's what?" Scott asked, squatting down beside her.

"What Uncle Logan just said Aunt Jayden has."

"Well…amnesia is when you can't remember things."

"Like to clean up her room?"

"Kind of," he said. "But instead of remembering to clean her room, she can't remember people."

The little girl looked up at me, panic etched on her face. "You don't remember me?" she asked.

"Uh…of course I do," I lied. "You're-"

I looked over at Scott. "Lily," he mouthed silently.

"You're Lily," I said. "I'm just having a very hard time remembering everything else."

I hated lying to her, but I felt like if I told her the truth, that I _couldn't_ remember her, it would break her heart. And even though I didn't know her, something said my own heart would break if hers did.

"Do you remember daddy?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, a little bit."

"Do you remember Uncle Logan? He's _your_ daddy."

I smiled. "Yeah, I remember him a little bit, too."

"Aunt Rogue?"

I looked at the woman they had been calling Rogue and shook my head. "I'm so sorry," I said to her. "But I don't remember you."

She gave me a small smile. "It's all right, don't worry. I'm sure you will sooner or later."

"Yeah, I'm sure I will."

"Do you want a grilled cheese?" Scott asked Lily, trying to change topics as quickly as possible.

"Yes, please," she said. "But no crust."

He smiled. "You got it baby doll," he said. "Why don't you go down to Uncle Hank's office and show him your new sweater while I'm making it? I bet he'll love it."

"Okay," she said and ran out of the room, intent on finding Dr. McCoy.

Scott stood back up and looked at me. "I am so sorry, Jayden. I didn't know she was going to put you on the spot like that," he said. "And I'm sorry you felt like you had to lie to her."

"It's fine," I said. "I'm sorry I don't remember her."

"Hey, stop apologizin', you can't help it," Rogue said. "You got hit; it's not _your_ fault."

"But I feel like it's all here in my head, I just can't get to it."

"I told you; stop tryin' so hard," Logan said.

"I'm trying. I mean, I'm trying _not_ to try. It's just very difficult. I remember a few things now, more than when I woke up an hour ago, but none of it makes sense."

"Well what _do_ you remember?" Rogue asked.

"Mountains, hotel rooms, rain. That's what I see when I think of Logan."

"Well, we've been to a few mountains, a lotta hotel rooms," he said.

"What do you see when you think of me?" Scott asked where he was making a grilled cheese for his daughter.

"Nothing," I lied. "It's more of a feeling, I guess."

"A good feeling or a bad one?"

My mind flashed back to the image of him kissing me. I felt the shivers run down my spine again.

"A good one."

I looked at Rogue, trying to distance my mind from Scott's kiss. I knew her, so I had to remember _something_. Even if it was something small. But I couldn't. She was a complete stranger.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but who are you?" I finally asked.

"I'm Rogue."

"No, I know that. I mean, I gathered that much at least. But how…"

The question was right on the tip of my tongue. I knew _how_ I knew her; she obviously lived, and probably taught, there at the school. But who was she to me?

I kept my eyes focused on her as I tried to get the question to form in my mind and noticed how close she was standing to Logan and remembered her kissing his cheek when she came in and how the two of them flirted with each other. Maybe the question wasn't who she was to me, but to him?"

"You and Logan are dating, or something, aren't you?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Five years now," she said. "He stayed with me when my mutation wouldn't let me touch anyone without killin' 'em. He was there the whole time I was goin' through different drug tests with Hank to get my mutation under control. And yet now, when I'm finally able to do all this, he won't even marry me."

"You're lucky," Scott muttered.

"I'm not lucky. I'm almost twenty-eight years old. Do you know what my momma would think of me bein' this old and not married? I might as well become a nun at this age."

"You're only two years older than me?"

"Yeah, but you shouldn't become a nun. Logan and my momma don't think the same way. The longer you wait to get married, the better. I thought he was gonna die when you got engaged to Tony, even though he gave him permission to propose," she said. "But you probably don't remember him, so never mind."

"I met him, he was there when I woke up," I said. "We were engaged?"

"Yeah. About three or four months. Then, just all of a sudden, you broke up. You never said why."

I looked at Logan. "Did I tell you why?"

"No," he said. But he was lying.

Why would he lie about that?

"Ya'll were so cute together, too. It was such a shame when you broke up. Everyone loved him. Well, everyone except Logan, but he doesn't count 'cause he doesn't like anyone. Lily even called him Uncle Tony…she still does, actually."

"Lily calls _everyone_ uncle. Or aunt," Scott said. "It doesn't matter that biologically she doesn't have either."

"That's true," she said with a laugh. "But back to Tony; he's practically family by now. He's spent every Christmas here for the last six years even though you broke up two years ago. Not that I mind, or anything. I've always thought he was sweet."

"He's a moron," Logan said, pushing his empty plate away.

"Why is he an idiot?" I asked.

"Different reasons," he said. "You'll figure 'em out once you get to know him again."

"He seemed nice to me."

"He doesn't have a reason not to be nice to you."

"He does if I broke up with him after we were engaged."

"How do you know that you broke up with him? How do you know he didn't dump you?" he asked.

I looked at him hard. He wasn't going to give an inch. He was just going to let me figure everything out on my own. And not only that, but he wanted to know how I figured it out.

"I don't _know_ anything," I said. "But he said we were in love, we were engaged and then we broke up three or four months later. If he had broken up with me, I wouldn't think he would still be hanging around. Otherwise, why would he have ended it?"

"Why would he still hang around if _you_ had ended it?" Logan asked.

"You just said he was a moron," I joked. "Maybe he's still in love with me."

"He is."

"I was joking."

He shrugged. "I'm not."

"Do I…uh, _did_ I know that he was still in love with me?"

"Yeah."

"Am I still in love with him?"

"No."

"Is that why we broke up?"

"No," he said again.

"But you do _know_ why, even though you lied and said you didn't, so why did we? If it wasn't because I wasn't in love with him still?"

"You don't need to know right now."

"Why not?"

"You just don't."

"You're really deadest on me figuring this all out on my own, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," he said. "You'll thank me for it later."

"I'm sure I will," I said a bit sarcastically.

He gave me a bit of a smirk. "Good to see you haven't lost your sarcasm."

"I would say that's probably one of my inherited traits rather than a learned one," I said. "Isn't it?"

He kept smirking at me. "Yeah, probably so."

"Just probably?" Scott asked with a laugh, flipping the grilled cheese where he was grilling it in a skillet.

I smiled as Logan growled at him yet again.

"Down boy," Rogue said.

I looked at the entrance way as a woman with black skin and white hair walked in. "Logan, Rogue, I need you both. We're leaving for a mission in ten minutes," she said.

"Get the Popsicle, I'm stayin' here with the kid," Logan said.

"Bobby's in Boston. He went down yesterday afternoon to spend New Year's with his family."

"When did they make up?" Rogue asked.

"A couple of months ago. I think he saw them a little before Thanksgiving," Scott said.

"I thought they hated him," Rogue said.

"It doesn't matter if they hate him or not, he's there, not here," the woman said.

"Well I'm still not goin' 'Ro."

"This is not a two person job. I need you and Rogue _both_."

"Jayden lost her memory; she needs me to stay here with her."

"You lost your memory?" the woman asked me.

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Obviously. You haven't called me 'ma'am' in years."

"Logan, why don't you go and I'll stay here with her? I'll have Hank keep an eye on Lily," Scott said.

Logan looked at me. "You okay with that?"

"I…I don't know," I said, confused. "Um…what's a mission? Like, what do you do on it?"

"She really has lost her memory," the woman said, letting out a sigh. "You sort this out and meet me in the hanger in ten, Logan."

Rogue gave me a smile as she turned to leave the room. "Bye Jayden."

"Bye," I said, giving her a small wave. Then I looked back to Logan. "So what, exactly, do you do on a mission?"

"Try to keep people from gettin' hurt," he said, standing.

"Like last night?"

"Just like last night."

"And how long do these things usually last?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Where we're goin', who we're goin' after, how many of 'em there are."

"Who are 'they'?"

"The bad guys, darlin'. That's who we go after."

"So that makes us the good guys, right?"

He laughed. "No, it just makes us not them." His face turned serious. "You sure you're gonna be alright here without me?"

'_No_,' I thought. '_I want you to stay_.'

But I didn't say it. I just nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

I wanted him to stay, but I didn't want him to think I depended on him. I wanted him to know that just because I didn't remember who or where I was, I was incapable of taking care of myself.

"We'll try to get back as soon as we can. Just sit tight and stay with Summers; the last thing you need is to get lost in the house."

I nodded again. "Okay."

He looked at me like he wanted to say something else, but he didn't. He just shook his head and left.

"How are you handling everything?" Scott asked once everyone had gone and he was putting the grilled cheese on a plate.

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"Not so well, I think."

"Why do you think that?"

"Logan…he wants me to figure this all out on my own. And I'm trying, but this is really hard. I'm getting little things, flashes of images, but that's it. Nothing solid. Everything else is just blank."

"Give it time."

"I don't _want_ to give it time. I know it's here," I said, tapping the side of my head with my fingers, "it's just hiding. I can't get to it and that's frustrating."

"You always have had control issues."

"What do you mean?"

"You like to be in control. If you're on pain pills that make you talk out of your head, you would rather be in pain than say something you don't mean to. In fights and arguments you always have to win. You like having the last word and punch," he said. "But it's not as bad as it used to be."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "You didn't used to let people get close to you. You thought needing people was weak."

"What happened? Why did I change?"

"You met Logan and realized that the _reason_ why you had convinced yourself that getting close to people was weak was because you were afraid that they were always going to leave you. But he didn't and he worked hard to prove that he wouldn't. When you first moved here you were so guarded, it was hard to talk to you. But slowly you let yourself get close to us," he said. "You haven't left us ever since."

"But we're close, aren't we? We're more than just friends?"

The smile fell from his face slightly. "Uh…well…there was a time when we were more, yeah. We were much more."

"But not now?" He shook his head. "Because you got married and had a kid?"

"No," he said. "It was complicated."

"How?"

"Very," he said. "But there was a point when you meant the world to me. You gave me my life back when I didn't think it was worth living. When you came here, we both needed something and we found it in each other."

I closed my eyes as I felt a rush of emotions hit me. Some were his, but most of them were mine. How I felt about him. It was overwhelming and I didn't understand a lot of it, but some I did. And it helped make things a bit clearer.

I looked back up at him and he seemed to already know what I was going to say. "I'm not in love with Tony," I said, "because I'm in love with you. Aren't I?"

He nodded, his face still serious. "Yeah, you are."

"Are you, or _were_ you ever, in love with me?"

"Yeah, I was," he said. "I was married before I met you. I thought my wife had died. But she hadn't. She just went missing for a few years. It's a complicated story. But you met me while she was gone. For almost a year we spent nearly everyday together and yes, I fell in love with you. But I missed Jean too and I used you as her substitute at times. Which was _very_ wrong of me."

"You kissed me. We were outside and it was snowing. The way you look at me." I shook my head. "You were looking at _me_. That wasn't a substitute. And when you kissed me…"

"I know. I told you; I _did_ love you. But after that kiss, Jean came back. And that really hurt you."

"You're the reason I was sent to Florida," I said, the links coming together in my mind.

"What?"

"I saw a picture of Logan and me in Florida in my room. He said I was sent there because I was having a mental breakdown because I was in love with a married man," I said. "Was he exaggerating?"

"Not really, no," he said. "I don't know if 'mental breakdown' are the words I would use, but yes; you did have a very difficult time when Jean came back. And no one blamed you for it. But you were very depressed the first few weeks she was back. You stayed in your room the whole time, you barely ate. That's when you were sent to Florida."

"Did I tell you all of that?"

"Yeah, but I knew it anyway," he said. "I hurt you Jayden. I never meant to, but I did. And that's something I still regret everyday."

I felt tears start to form, even though I didn't understand why. But he didn't look away from me. He kept his attention on me even as the tears began to fall.

"I don't think I would care that you hurt me; I just want to remember you," I said. "Because I think you still mean a lot to me."

"I hope I do. You still mean a lot to me."

I wiped away the tears as they were rolling down my cheeks. "I just want to remember everything. I don't want to have this stupid void hanging over my head. I want to be able to look at you and…I don't know," I said. "I sound like an idiot, I do know that."

"You don't sound like an idiot. You never have. You've always been an incredibly smart person," he said. "You're odd sometimes and I don't always agree with the decisions you make, but I know you think things through and do what you think is right."

"Thanks. I've heard some pretty bad things about me so far today, so I really appreciate that," I said, continuing to wipe at my tears. I had stopped crying, but they were still spread out over my cheeks, continuing their way down my face.

"What did you hear about you that's bad?"

"Apparently I've tried killing myself."

"That was my fault."

"How was it your fault? Logan said I tried to do it when I thought he was dead, or something."

"You did, but I knew you were depressed, I should have been keeping an eye on you. I should have talked to you, or something. But I just left you on your own."

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself once again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought this up. I didn't realize I was going to start crying."

"It's fine, I just wish I could help you more," he said. Then he smiled. "Jayden, would you like to take a walk with me?"


	3. Filling In The Blanks

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to either X-Men or Marvel. Because if I did, X3 never would have happened and the Wolverine movie would be out like, right now. Please enjoy!

* * *

After taking Lily her sandwich and making sure that Dr. McCoy would watch her for him, Scott gave me a tour of the school. It took about an hour and once he had showed me everything on the inside, we both got bundled up and he took me outside for a tour of the grounds. There were horse stables, a basketball and tennis court, a pool that had been drained and covered. But I didn't recognize it.

"So you really don't remember any of this?" Scott asked as we walked through a snow covered garden.

"No. But it's not because I don't want to."

"I know. It just seems weird. You know this place like the back of your hand. You could walk blindfolded and still know where you were going," he said. "It's odd that you don't remember any of it now."

"So do I spend a lot of time out here or something?"

"Yeah, you love it out here. You used to come out and take pictures. Especially when you first started. You took some beautiful ones of Lily about three years ago. It was during the spring and she was running around the yard, picking all the flowers for you."

"She seems like a sweet kid."

"She is. She's a really good kid, too. I got very lucky and believe me; I know it."

"So where's her mom? I know you said she went missing for a few years a while ago, but she came back. So where is she now?"

"She died."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's been six years now. She passed away just a few hours after giving birth to Lily. She had a lot of health problems, so we were expecting it."

"That couldn't have made it any easier, though."

"No, it didn't. Not really. But you helped me out a lot. I think I would have gone crazy without you those first few months. My wife just died and I had a brand new baby. I didn't know what I was doing."

"But I did?"

He laughed. "Well, no, but…I don't know, you were just there. You didn't have to know what I was going through to help me out."

"So were we close even when your wife was here?"

"Yeah."

"Did she not have a problem with that?" He didn't say anything. He just shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. "Should I take that as a yes?"

"Yeah, probably."

"So she _did_ have a problem with it."

"Like I said earlier; it was complicated."

"That seems to be how everyone describes my relationships with them," I said. "So what does that say about me?"

"It says you are a very complex person."

I laughed. "I doubt that. It probably means I'm high maintenance."

"No, I wouldn't call you that."

"Is that because if you did I would usually scream, yell, pitch a fit?"

"No," he said with a laugh. "You yell and scream quite a bit, but you rarely pitch fits. And you're definitely not high maintenance. I promise."

"Well, that's good."

We walked the rest of the way through the garden until we rounded a corner and I saw a large stone jutting out of the ground. The closer we got, the more familiar it felt. The stone had the profile of a woman etched on the side. Jean Grey-Summers' name was written under the picture and under it the inscription read: '_Beloved mother, wife, friend and teacher_.' It was followed by the year of her birth and death.

"This is where you kissed me," I said.

"Yes it is."

"That stone was there then, too," I said, pointing to the memorial.

"It was actually a different one, but we did have one up at the time, yeah."

"Do you come out here often? To see it?"

"Every once in a while."

"Do you ever talk to her?" He looked over at me and I couldn't figure out what he was feeling. Had I said something wrong? "What?" I asked. "I didn't mean to imply that you hear her or anything. That she talks back to you. I just meant, you know, did _you_ ever talk to her?"

He shook his head and smiled. "No, sorry, I know you weren't implying that. It's just that you asked me that when you first moved here."

"And what was your answer then?"

"Yeah, I do talk to her sometimes. I don't know if she can hear me, I don't know if it works like that or not, but I like to come out here and tell her how Lily's doing, how she's growing up and how much she loves school. So yeah, every now and then I'll come out here and talk to her."

"That's a good thing. I think."

He nodded and I watched as our breaths turned to fog in front of our faces. I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck and decided that didn't do much, so I wrapped it around my neck one more time. I shoved my gloved hands into the pockets of my coat and tried to keep myself warm.

"I have a question," I said.

"Shoot."

"Why don't you and Logan get along? Is it because of me?"

"No, it's not you. Logan and I have never gotten along. We didn't like each other the moment we met."

"But why?"

"I thought he was an ungrateful, sarcastic jerk who thought he knew more than what he did and was a lot better than what he was. He wasn't a team player and refused to take orders from anyone. He was completely disrespectful and hated the fact that I had actually saved his life."

"Why didn't he like you?"

"He thought I was some stupid, preppy boy who took orders and didn't think anything on my own. I didn't get my hands dirty, too the easy way out and thought I was more important than what I am. I didn't deserve my wife, my cars or my bikes and he was deadest on showing me that he could take them all, no problem. When you fell in love with me, that just added fuel to the fire."

"How did he take me being in love with you?"

"Not well. I can't tell you how many times he threatened to kill me because I hurt you. Which is completely understandable. And now that I have Lily, I can't believe he didn't make good on those threats. If someone hurt her half as much as I hurt you, I would kill them in a heartbeat. No questions asked."

"Well she's adorable, so I'm sure she's going to have a few guys coming around in a few years, asking you if they can take her out. So you better get that shotgun ready."

He gave me a sly smile. "I don't need a shotgun. I can blast a hole through a mountain with my eyes. I think I can take care of a few boys."

"Can you seriously blast a hole through a mountain?"

"Absolutely."

"How?"

"My mutation is optic blasts. That's what the sunglasses are for; the ruby quartz lenses keep the blasts from escaping and killing people."

"So you can't take them off?"

"Well I have a visor I wear at night when I'm sleeping because it's a bit more secure, or when I'm fighting because it allows me different levels. But I always have one or the other on."

"That girl Rogue, though. She said her mutation had something to do with touching people and killing them, that she couldn't touch them without doing that, until Dr. McCoy helped her with some sort of drug. Right? Why couldn't you do the same thing?"

"I tried but it didn't work. I was in an accident when I was younger and injured my head. The injury caused a bit of brain damage that just so happened to be in the part where my mutation is controlled. I can't shut off the optic blasts with any drug, no matter how strong it is."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"Well with your glasses, do you see the red lenses? Or are they like sunglass, or something, where they seem clear when you look through them?"

"No, they're red."

"So that's what you always see?"

"Yeah."

"That has to be terrible."

"It's been this way since I was fourteen. After twenty-seven years, you get used to seeing red."

I thought for a second as I tried adding the numbers in my head. My math skills left a lot to be desired. "You're forty-one?"

"Yes, please don't rub it in. I know I'm getting old."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"What were you going to say then?"

"You don't look forty-one. You look younger than that. I bet if you got rid of that gray in your hair and shaved, you could easily pass for thirty. Maybe younger."

He laughed. "I'll remember that the next time I want to pass for thirty."

I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ears, trying to keep it from whipping me in my face. "I think it's a good idea."

"Do you want to know what _I_ think is a good idea?"

"Yeah. What?"

"Going inside, making hot chocolate and getting warmed up so that we can get the feeling back in our noses."

I smiled again. "I like that idea, too."

"Good, come on."

Together we walked back through the snow to the house. The moment we stepped through the door and I felt the heat hit my face, I realized how cold it had been outside.

"I hope you make good hot chocolate because I'm freezing."

He laughed. "No, my hot chocolate is terrible. But Hank makes a great cup of it. I'll see if he'll come up and make some for us."

"Hank is Dr. McCoy, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Well I'm not sure he'll want to make anything for me. I was pretty disrespectful to him. I know I had to have offended him. I didn't mean to, but I was just surprised by how he looked. I didn't except it," I said. "Honestly I didn't mean it."

"Jayden, you could kill Hank and with his dying breath he would apologize for getting blood on your shirt. He forgives easily, especially when it comes to you. You're his favorite person. He's not going to care what you said to him. I promise."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely," he said. "Come on, we can go ask him and I'll show you."

I didn't protest as he led me down the hall into the main foyer and to an elevator. We both stepped in and he pressed the button for the ground level. The elevator was smooth and didn't lurch when it began to move, but still the one level drop made my stomach flip a little and I grabbed one of the handles to steady myself.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked as we stopped and the door slid open.

"Yeah, I'm just a little dizzy from riding."

"In an elevator?" he asked with a bit of a laugh.

"Don't they ever make you dizzy?"

"Sometimes. I just wouldn't expect you to get sick in one."

"Why not?"

"You jump out of airplanes with no problem. I wouldn't think an elevator would both you."

"Why would I jump out of a perfectly good airplane?"

"Tony took you skydiving for your twenty-second birthday. You loved it and got used to it, so you started jumping when we go on missions where we can't land the jet. You and Logan are the only two we have that are trained to jump. You love it."

"We have a jet?"

He smiled. "It's probably best if we don't talk about that right now. It's not really important."

"No, hot chocolate is."

His smile grew wider. "Exactly."

We finally exited the elevator and walked in silence to Dr. McCoy's office. I took a deep breath before we entered and prepared myself to see the doctor again.

"Hank, we were wondering if you could make us some hot chocolate?" Scott asked.

The large blue man stood up from his desk. "I would love to."

"Where's Lily?"

"She's in the infirmary with Tony. They're playing Uno. I do believe Lily's winning."

"Tony's still here?" I asked.

"Yes. Would you like to invite him up to have a cup with us?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I said.

"I'll go tell them and rescue him from being beaten by a six year old," Scott said, leaving the room and going into the one adjoining it.

That left me in a room alone with Dr. McCoy.

"Sir, I -" I started.

"Call me Hank. You don't call me 'sir' or 'doctor'. We've agreed it's a bit too stuffy for a man covered in blue fur," he said with a smile. "But please continue."

"Hank, I want to apologize to you for my reaction earlier today. I never meant to offend you," I said. "Not to say that I'm not still scared and confused, but when I woke up, I was terrified. I didn't know who I was, where I was, what was going on. I know that how I acted when you came in the room was incredibly rude and I am so sorry. I was in shock and -"

"My appearance did nothing to help. I understand, Jayden. I'm used to people acting that way towards me."

"But they say we're close. That you're my best friend. It doesn't matter if you're used to it from other people or not, you're not used to it from me. And I'm very sorry, I really am."

He smiled at me once again. "You're forgiven my dear."

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he said. "So have you remembered anything new?"

"A few things, but not enough for me to really know who I am or who everyone else is."

"Well I have the utmost faith in you and your ability to figure this all out."

I gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I need a bit of faith right now."

After a few more seconds Scott, Lily and Tony came out of the infirmary and into Hank's office. Once they were all there, we walked to the elevator and all piled in. Scott held Lily in his arms, but that still left me squished between him and Hank and pressed against Tony's chest.

He didn't say anything, but I could feel him smiling. I didn't understand how that was possible, but I could. And when I felt his hand on my shoulder, I didn't shirk it away. Even though it wasn't a familiar touch, it definitely wasn't an unwelcome one. His hand was engulfing my shoulder and I liked how it looked there. And I really liked how it felt.

The elevator stopped and I felt my stomach drop again as it settled onto the first floor. Tony moved his hand and we all filed out and I followed them to the kitchen. When I sat down on one of the stools, Tony sat beside me.

I didn't understand it; if he had truly been in love with me and I had broken up with him, why on earth would he still want to be close to me?

"Uncle Hank, can you make us some cookies too?" Lily asked.

"Not now, sweetheart. You've already had one today," Scott answered.

"But I only had one and it wasn't that big. Please, daddy!"

"No."

"Daddy, I said please!"

"And I said no. You can have desert after dinner, but not until then." She stomped her feet, crossed her arms and looked up at him with a pout. "Are you going to pitch a fit Lily Hope Summers? Do we need to leave the room and have a talk?"

"No," she said, still pouting.

"Then behave please," he said. He pointed to one of the stools at the island. "Now sit down and wait for Uncle Hank to make you some hot chocolate because that's going to be all the sweets you get until after dinner, okay?"

"Yes, sir," he said, looking slightly defeated. She climbed up on one of the stools beside Scott and let out a sigh.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he said to her.

"You're welcome daddy."

He bent down to her. "Can I have a kiss?"

She nodded and raised her face, then he started kissing her cheeks, forehead, chin and neck.

"That tickles, daddy!" she said, laughing.

"Give me sugar, give me sugar, give me sugar!" he roared, kissing her all over her neck, then pulling her up into a hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, catching her breath. He gave her another kiss on her cheek before setting her back down on her stool. "Does Aunt Jayden remember everyone now?" she asked.

"No, but she's trying," Scott said, patting her head.

She looked at me. "Do you know what I do when I can't remember something?"

I shook my head. "What?"

"I close my eyes like this," she said, scrunching her eyes tight. "And then I think really hard about what it is I forgot and try to remember it." She opened her eyes. "Try it."

"Okay," I said, closing my eyes right like she had done and thought. Unfortunately I was sure that I didn't look as cute as she did doing it. I opened my eyes and looked at her. "Sorry, I still don't remember."

"Do you remember Uncle Tony?"

I shook my head again. "No, I don't."

She looked over at him and stuck out her tongue. "Ha, ha, she remembers _me_!" she teased.

"Well ha, ha, I can eat as many cookies as I want, whenever I want," he shot back.

"I'll just call your daddy and tell him and he won't let you," she said. "So it doesn't count."

"You got me there, squirt."

I smiled at him and when he saw me, he smiled back.

'_Why did we break up?_' I thought.

The five of us sat in the kitchen, talking and drinking hot chocolate. I may not have remembered them, but I didn't have any problems keeping up conversation. They were friendly and patient, helping me out whenever I didn't remember something. Which was a lot. After a few hours, Lily fell asleep so Scott took her upstairs for a nap. And Hank decided to do a 'walk-around' to check on all of the students. So Tony and I went upstairs to my bedroom.

"So you're detective, right?" I asked as he sat down my bed.

"Yeah, six and a half years, or something like that."

"And before then you worked for the FBI?"

He nodded. "I was a criminal profiler for them before I moved here. How did you know that?"

"I saw a couple of shirts with the initials on it, I thought maybe I worked for them, so I asked Logan. He said you gave them to me," I said. "How long were you a criminal profiler?"

"About seven years. And before that I was a detective in California for a few years."

"How old are you?"

"Does it really matter?"

I smiled. "Are you old?"

"No," he said with a nervous laugh. "I'm not old."

I sat down beside him. "Can I guess your age, then?"

He eyed me suspiciously. "I don't know. It depends on what age you think I am."

I smiled again. "Thirty-five."

"Not bad. Thirty-seven."

"So you're eleven years older than me."

"Yes ma'am."

"Did we ever have a problem with that?"

"I didn't. What thirty-year-old man has a problem dating a hot twenty-year-old?" he joked, then shook his head. "No, we got along well."

"Then why did we break up?"

The smile fell from his face. "It's probably not a good idea to talk about that right now."

"Why? What happened between us?"

"Jayden, I think right now you just need to concentrate on your life as it is, in the present, you know?"

"No, I _don't_ know."

"Look, what happened between us already happened. You don't need to worry about it."

"But what if it helps me to remember?"

"I don't think it will."

"Why not?"

"I just…look, I just don't think it will, okay?"

"And if you never tell me, I'll never know."

"I'm not trying to stop you from remember anything. But what happened to cause our breakup was painful for both of us. I really don't like about it."

"But don't you think I deserve to know about it?"

"Yes I do," he said. "But if you want to know the truth; I'm very selfish and would rather not talk about something that's going to make me uncomfortable."

"All right, fine," I said, standing. "Back to the detective thing: You solve crimes, you collect evidence, you connect suspects. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. You get to help me do all of that so I can make a compilation of my life in hopes of remembering something," I said. "Do you know my family well?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Okay, why are you calling me 'ma'am'?"

"I don't know, I just always have," he said. "That or Miss Rivers."

"Should I call you Mr. De Luca since you're old?" I asked jokingly.

"I'm _not_ old."

"You're older than me."

"Okay, yes, that's true," he said. "And sometimes you do call me that."

"Cool. Let's get to work," I said. "Mr. De Luca."

He smiled. "Okay, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know actually," I said. "Do I have any regular pictures of everyone? Like, that _aren't_ hanging up on that wall?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know where I keep them?"

He stood up and walked over to my dresser and squatted down. He opened the bottom drawer then pulled out a big box. It was orange, red and yellow stripped. He closed the drawer then brought the box over to me.

"This isn't even half of them, but it has quite a few in there. Did you need them for any particular reason?"

"Yeah. I'm looking for pictures of everyone I know. If I can see them, put names with them and attach some sort of relationship to them, I might be able to remember a bit more."

"Good idea, I guess."

"I'm glad you think so because you're going to help me."

"How?"

"I'm going to get my notebook, we're going to sit down on my bed, and we're going to go over all of these photos. Your job is to tell me who everyone is and how I know them. That way I can write it down and keep track of it."

"What if I have to go to work?"

"Do you?" I asked, grabbing my notebook from my desk.

"No, but you didn't know that."

"Well if you don't want to help me, you don't have to. I can wait until Logan gets back."

"I didn't say I didn't want to help you."

"No, you just insinuated that I didn't take into consideration what you have to do today. But I did. We were supposed to have lunch earlier today, so you either don't work morning or you took today off since it's a holiday. And considering you're the one who suggested we come up here and 'hang out', I'm going to go with the latter," I said. "So I _did_ think about it."

"You know, I don't remember why you didn't finish getting your degree in forensics. You don't let anything by you," he said with a smile.

"Logan said I quit school less than a year in."

"Yeah, you did. I just never figured out why you didn't try anything college."

I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't even know why I quit."

"You got into a fight with two other students."

"Why?"

"You were going through some…changes at the time."

"What kind of changes?"

"Well, it's very complicated, but you had some energy from another person trapped in your brain and she somehow managed to change your hair black, make you grow fangs, have weird blue cat eyes, and these black bands all over your body that looked like tribal tattoos," he said. "She thought it was your fault that she was a paraplegic so she got into her father's brain and made him kill every girl that looked like you until you finally found her and made her stop…by killing her."

I blinked at him. "Yeah, that old story again. I can't believe how many times that one's happened," I said dry and sarcastically.

He laughed. "I know, right?"

"So aside from that being quite possibly the oddest story, I don't know, like…_ever_, what does it have to do with me dropping out of college?"

"Well your appearances changed and a lot of people at your school started calling you a mutant, even though they didn't know for sure. Then one day a stupid guy threw a medicine ball at your head. You ended up with a concussion but you fractured his cheek bone and broke his nose _and _butt bone, which was my personal favorite. And if I'm not mistaken, you broke his friend's nose, too."

"And I didn't get in trouble for that?"

"No, actually. The school didn't have security cameras and none of the students would come forward and say what they say."

"So I got away with assault?"

"You've gotten away with much more."

"Like what?"

"Well I just told you that you killed a girl, so that's one."

"But you said that she was having her father kill girls who looked like me. I assumed it was self defense."

"Never assume; get the facts first," he said. "And it wasn't really self defense because I just told you she was a paraplegic."

"You also said she was getting into her father's head and making him kill people. If she was doing that while I was in the room with him, the only way I could get her to stop would be to kill her, right?"

"Well…yeah, I guess if it had happened that way that would have worked," he said. "But it didn't happen that way."

"Then how did it?"

"You were eating breakfast with Logan in a restaurant, you went to the bathroom and the girl's father came in and attacked you. You knew who he was because you had seen him in a few visions. You fought back, judging from how you looked afterwards you fought back hard. But you didn't kill him; Logan did."

"So he saved me?"

_Hinc sola salus: This is my only salvation._

"Yeah."

"Okay, so how did _that_ lead to his daughter?"

"When he touched you, or you touched him, you saw some of his memories and you saw what hospital she was in. So you found her and you killed her."

"Just like that?"

"No. You got her confession on tape first. And then you killed her."

"How?"

"You found some sort of drugs in a medicine closet there, mixed it with potassium or something, and put it in her IV. Her death certificate said she died of a heart attack, even though we both knew it was wrong."

"So I did all of this in a public hospital and _no one_ saw me?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"How?"

"Well, obviously their security was lacking," he said. "But you avoided what security cameras they did have, you gave a false name when you signed in to see her and had Logan distract the woman at the front desk so you could slip out unnoticed."

"And how do you know all of this?"

"You told me," he said simply. "The girl's father had been murdering his victims for months. I was working his case as part of the FBI; I was trying to profile him. You had seen some visions of the victims and you were helping me with it, so after she died you called me and we met up. You gave me the copy of her confession and told me what you did."

"Why didn't you arrest me?"

"Because even though you confessed, you covered your tracks too well to get enough evidence to prove that you were the one that killed her and not a heart attack. I never could have arrested you."

"Didn't you have a problem with that? With the fact that I committed murder and got away with it?"

"You and I always had differing opinions on that subject, yeah."

"Differing? Meaning you disagreed with it?"

"In our jobs we both try to do the same thing: Protect innocent people. We just go about it in different ways. You never got involved with my job unless I asked you to, and I never got involved in yours. So it doesn't matter if I agreed with it or not."

"What's my job?"

"Logan hasn't told you?"

"I'm not sure."

"Believe me; if he had told you, you would know."

"Well he told me of _a _job, but I don't know if he was telling the truth."

"Considering that he rarely lies to you, if at all, he probably was telling the truth," he said. "And the two of us are the only ones you told about it, so he would know."

"Okay, why don't you tell me what it is you think I do and I'll tell you if that's what he told me?"

He let out a sigh. "You're a hitman…or woman, or whatever." I swore. "Is that not what he told you?" he asked.

"He told me I was an assassin, so yeah," I said. "It's the same thing, right? You get paid to kill people, whatever the title."

"I don't know. I guess it's the same thing. I haven't ever really thought much about it."

"Logan told me I was employed by the government. Is that true?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"Which branch?"

"That I honestly don't know. I'm sorry."

"How did I get the job?"

"You were approached by someone. I don't know who they were, I never met them. But they somehow had heard about you and offered you the job."

"So what do I do? Sneak in, kill people, leave, get paid?"

"Not quite. You work undercover a lot. You wear disguises, take your targets out, size them up and find out exactly where their weak points are, then you exploit and kill them."

"And somehow that's legal?"

"No, I don't think it is. But you have immunity, so it doesn't matter."

"How many people have I killed?"

"Quite a few."

"How _many_? I want a number. Give me a ballpark figure, something."

"Over fifty."

"Fif…fifty? Are you freakin' kidding me?"

"No."

"How can I have killed that many people?"

"Well, you're good at it."

"You and Logan both said that. What do you mean I'm _good_ at it? It's murder."

"I told you; you can size someone up and see what their weak points are. Then you take advantage of it and use it against them. You've done it to me quite a few times."

"But you're still alive."

"You took pity on me and let me live."

"How lovely of me," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"It's second nature to you, Jayden. It's just natural. It's reflex, instincts. You may not be proud of it right now, but you've worked hard to be as good as you are and you _are_ proud of it," he said. "Or you were."

"I'm proud that I murder people for a living? No wonder you wanted to marry me."

"Who told you I wanted to marry you?"

"Rogue did."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I just thought that maybe you had remembered it yourself."

"No, sorry."

"Well, back to your murdering spree: You don't just go around killing people who don't deserve it."

"Yeah. I kill murderers and rapists, right?"

"You take down the people we can't legally touch. High ranking people from other countries that come over here and get Diplomatic Immunity. They can come here, take advantage of everything and everyone, and we can't touch them."

"So you send me?"

"A young, pretty girl who caters to their exact tastes. They would never suspect you're about to kill them. And if they _do_ start to get suspicious, you can sense it, so you fix it before they can back out," he said. "You're not just an assassin; you have to get in there and interact with them. You learned how to speak Russian in less than two days because one man wanted a 'companion' from his native country. You can do ten or twelve different accents, you slip into disguises, costumes, wigs, like it's no big deal."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Jayden, you've spent most of your life watching these freaks do all kinds of sick things to innocent people in your visions. Now you actually have the ability to do something about it. It's not just some twisted hobby for you; you save people."

"But does that make it okay?"

"I don't know. All I know is that you chose the lesser of two evils. These people don't _deserve_ to live, to be allowed to hurt other people. I don't know if it makes it okay to kill them or not, though. We all have different opinions on it."

I let out a deep sigh and shook my head. "This is all so insane. I just can't believe it."

"You don't have to, but considering it's the truth, you might want to."

I smiled. "Yeah, I'll take that into consideration."

"Good," he said. "Let's get to work on your family suspect chart."

The two of us sat down and went to work on the chart. We started with the people there at the school:

_Logan – Father, met him for the first time when I was eighteen, very close relationship._

_Rogue – Logan's girlfriend, one of my friends, apparently used to hate her. Not quite sure why._

_Scott – Close friend, also met him when I was eighteen, I've been in love with him ever since._

_Lily – Scott's daughter, calls me Aunt, I apparently helped to raise her._

_Hank – Best friend, addicted to Twinkies (saw him down a whole box by himself today) and shares my apparent love of old, black and white films._

_Professor Xavier aka 'Chuck' – The owner of the school. I've yet to meet him again._

_Bobby – Friend, in Boston visiting his family trying to fix their relationship. They frown on mutants. Used to date Rogue._

_Ororo aka Storm – Not a close friend, we used to not get along at all, called a truce after the death of Scott's wife._

_Jean – Scott's dead wife. We did _not_ get along._

"Okay, so that's all of the people here I'm close to," I said, shuffling through a stack of pictures. "Did I miss anyone?"

"No, that's everyone but the students," Tony said, pulling his sweater over his head, taking it off and leaving him in just a white T-shirt.

He was far from being built like a Greek god but there was something very attractive about him. His humor, his gorgeous smile, the mischievous look in his eyes that made him look like a teenager about to tell a naughty joke. But he wasn't a teenager; he was a man. And there was so incredibly sexy about that.

Why did I fall out of love with him?

"Can I ask a question?" I asked.

"Sure."

"What attracted you to me?"

"Like what was the first thing I noticed?"

"No. What made you fall in love with me?"

"You're smart, beautiful, funny; the perfect trifecta," he said with a smile. "You're also one of the best people I've ever met in my life."

I smiled and felt myself blush. "Well that's a big confidence booster," I said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He stared at me for a long moment. "Why were you thinking about that?"

I shrugged, my cheeks still burning with a flush. "I don't know. I guess I was just thinking about how nice you've been to me today, not to mention patient. I was wondering if I always found that an attractive quality about you?"

He smiled back at me. "I don't know. You were generally attracted to my boyish charm, devilish good looks, and my quick wit."

I laughed. "Well I can totally see why I was in love with you now: It must have been your modesty."

"You know you've said that to me before."

"Have I?"

"Yeah."

"Well it must have really made an impression on me."

"Must have," he said. "Should we get back to your chart?"

"Sure," I said. "What do you know about my biological family? Aside from Logan."

"Your mother lived in Canada."

"Where does she live now?"

"Well, she's dead."

"How?"

"She had a brain tumor."

"What was her name?"

"Bridget."

_Bridget – Biological mother, gave me up for adoption at three, died from a brain tumor._

"Did I ever know her after I got older?"

"Yeah, you found her when you were eighteen. It was the same trip you were on when you found Logan. But…you didn't have a good relationship. She did a lot of things to hurt you and screw you up, so you were mad at her for a while. When she found out that she was dying, she came to you and asked you for forgiveness."

"_Did_ I forgive her?"

"No, but you told her you did. When she died, you went to her funeral," he said. "Eventually, over time, you came to forgive her."

I scratched my head and thought. "Okay, what about my adoptive parents. Do you know them?"

"Yeah."

"Who are they?"

He shuffled through a set of photos before showing me a picture of a couple standing in front of a large fountain. "That's your mom, Terry," he said, pointing to the woman.

"Is that my dad with her?"

"No, it's mine."

I was confused. "Why is your dad with her and not mine?"

"They're married."

I was even more confused. "Wait…so you're my step-brother?"

"Yeah."

"Is _that_ why we broke up? Because I would totally understand that."

He laughed. "No, actually. We started seeing each other before they did."

"So do they both live in California?"

"No, they live in Italy."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. That's where they are in this picture. We were in Rome."

"_We_?"

"Yes, we. You and I went there on vacation a couple of years ago to visit them."

"So I've been to Italy?"

"Yep."

"Did I like it?"

He nodded. "You loved it," he said, a sad smile on his face.

I decided not to ask why the thought of it made him sad. Instead I picked up another set of photos and began looking through them. After a couple of minutes I saw a picture of myself with a man. He was older, in his mid to late sixties, and when I saw it, though I didn't know why, it made me smile.

I held up the picture and showed it to Tony. "Who's this?"

"That's Paul, your adoptive father."

"Where is he?"

"He uh…he died. Last year. He had a heart attack."

"Was it a real one or something I did?"

"No, it was real. You wouldn't do that to him."

"Was I close to him?"

"You didn't used to be, but in the five years before he died, you became really close. You would fly out to see him once or twice a year."

"What about my mom? Do we get along?"

"You can if you try. But you're both very different."

"Did she marry your dad after mine died?"

"No. They got a divorce about seven years ago."

"Did my dad die alone?"

"Yeah, he did," he said. "I'm sorry. If this is too much, we can stop. It's almost time for dinner anyway. Okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

_Terry – Adoptive mother, married to Tony's dad, lives in Italy, we get along if we try._

_Paul – Adoptive father. Deceased_.

* * *

Tony stayed for dinner and while I was there I met the Professor. He was a very lovely, intelligent and understanding man. I could feel warmth radiating off him like I had with Hank. He promised to do his best to help me remember everything again.

Once dinner was over, I told everyone good night and Hank walked me to my room to make sure I didn't get lost. I wasn't really sleepy, but I wanted to be by myself for a while. I needed a change to think everything through.

I walked around my room, studying every inch of it. _Something_ had to be a trigger. _Something_ had to help me remember. But nothing did.

I let out a sigh as I stood near my window, staring out it. It was dark but I could see the snow falling. And I had the sudden urge to go outside and run around in it like a little kid. I wanted to bury all of my thoughts deep down underneath the snow and not have to worry about them. I just wanted to remember.

I wasn't sleepy, but I was tired. So I changed into a pair of pajamas, brushed my teeth and went to bed. From where I was laying, I could see out my window and I could watch the snow falling. And soon my eyes began to droop until finally, I fell asleep.


	4. Waiting

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel or X-Men, but I do own the rights to all of my typos. Oh yeah! Enjoy!

* * *

I was in a kitchen, putting sautéed chicken into a pot full of pasta when I heard the door open.

"Hey baby, I'm trying that chicken, spinach, noodle thingy your dad sent me the recipe for the other day. Are you hungry?" I said as Tony walked into the living room of his apartment.

"Not really," he said, his voice sounding nasally.

I put the lid on the pot and turned around to look at him. "Holy crap, what happened to you?" I asked.

His face was busted and bleeding. His bottom lip was swollen and I could see a bruise beginning to surface around his right eye. The bridge of his nose was busted and congealed blood clung to the cut. He looked like he had been hit by a truck.

He shrugged off his suit jacket before loosening up his tie and pulling it off. He tossed them both on the back of his couch. "I got hit in the face with a two-by-four," he said, unbuttoning his white dress shirt that was stained with blood.

"By who?" I asked, abandoning my position at the stove and walking over to him.

"A ten year old on steroids," he said. "At least he hit like he was on them."

"Why did he hit you?"

He pulled off his white shirt and threw it in the floor. "I was arresting his father for aggravated assault. I didn't even see the kid. He came out of no where and just started swinging. He got in about four good hits before Dave pulled him off me."

"Why didn't you go to the doctor?"

He smiled at me, showing the blood stuck to his teeth. "I thought you could be my doctor."

"What if something's broken? I can't fix that."

"Nothing's broken. It's mostly just blood. Trust me."

"Tony -"

"Shh," he said, cutting me off. "I'm fine. I just need to get cleaned up."

I let out a sigh. "Okay, sit down and I'll see what I can do."

He sat down on the couch with a groan as I went to the kitchen. I grabbed a big bowl, filled it with warm water and brought it back to the living room. I sat it on the coffee table then went to his bathroom for a washcloth, Band-Aids, antiseptic cream and pain relievers. I brought them back and spread it all out on the coffee table.

Then I went to work.

I took the rag and dipped it in the bowl of water and began cleaning the cuts on his face. He was right; it was mostly just blood. The cuts he had weren't that big or deep. Once I cleaned them off, I bandaged them up. The worst was the cut on the bridge of his nose. It had split the skin in two and there was a large splinter stuck in it lengthwise. It took me ten minutes to work it out with a pair of tweezers. It took Tony three ibuprofen and a shot of whiskey.

"How am I supposed to marry a man that gets hurt like _this_ at his job?" I asked, holding his face in my hands.

"You say 'I do'. It's very simple."

"I'm serious, Tony. What happens if you're alone next time? What if Dave's not there to pull the person with the two-by-four away? One hit in the right place is all it takes to kill someone. What if you die?"

"I'm not going to die."

"Don't say that."

"Why? You're not superstitious."

"I don't care. You don't play around with that."

"I'm not," he said. "And I'm not going to die."

"You're a police officer. You and firefighters have the most dangerous jobs in the world. You can't sit there and tell me that you're not going to die."

"What about you? You have a dangerous job, too."

"It's not the same."

"Why not? Because you're better at yours than I am mine?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you meant it."

I moved my hands from his face, but kept my eyes on his. "No, I didn't. But I know me and I'm confident in my abilities. I don't worry about myself."

"So you're _not_ confident in _my_ abilities?"

"You're twisting my words, Tony. I'm not saying any of that."

"Then what _are_ you saying?"

"I love you and I don't want you to get hurt. _That's_ what I'm saying. You're my fiancé; I want you to live long enough to be my husband."

"And you think I would just be okay if you died and I didn't get to marry you? I went through a lot to propose to you and to get you to say yes; I would like it if we both lived long enough to make it to the wedding," he said. "Or to the shower at least. If you're going to die, I'm going to need those five toasters and seven blenders to get me through the pain."

I smiled and shook my head. "You're such a dork."

He ran his hand across my cheek then through my hair. "You don't have to worry about me, Jayden. I can take care of myself," he said. "I'm not going to leave you, I promise. I love you and I'm going to stick around."

"I hope so. You're kind of growing on me."

"Like a fungus?"

I laughed and kissed him, being careful not to kiss the part of his lip that was busted. "Yes. You're my little Italian fungus."

"You know they have medicine for that now," he joked. Then he kissed me back and smiled. "Did you say you cooked?"

"Yeah. It's that chicken pasta stuff Mike e-mailed me the recipe for the other day. I can't guaranty that it's as awesome as his, but I didn't burn it, so that's a start, right?"

"Yeah, it's a very good start. I do believe that's how Julia Child and Emeril got their own shows. You're on your way to the big time, kid."

"Do you want to try it or are you not hungry?"

"Well I _did_ drink a considerable amount of my own blood earlier, so I'm still quite full from that, but I might be able to make room for a bite or two."

"Stay right here, I'll get you a plate." I stood up and went back over to the kitchen portion of his apartment.

"You know, we never talked about where we're going to live when we get married," he said. "Which one of us is moving?"

"Maybe we can just keep living where we're at and keep our own places like Logan and Rogue."

"Two separate rooms in the same house is a little different than living in two separate houses in the same town. The school's thirty minutes away from me."

"The maybe we can live at the mansion during the week and here on the weekend."

"Why there during the week? There's not a whole lot of privacy there. I mean what if we're…_you know_, one night and Logan hears us?"

I laughed as I took a plate down from a cabinet. "It's not like he doesn't already know that we're sleeping together, Tony. Plus, we'll be _married_, there's really nothing he can do about it," I said, giving the pasta a quick stir before scooping it out onto his plate. "And it's not like I haven't heard him going at it before. My hearing is almost as good as his, you know. You have no idea how many nights since Rogue learned how to control her mutation that I've had to sleep with cotton in my ears and earmuffs on top of it. So if anything, he deserves to hear us."

"No offense, sweeties, I love you and all and usually I would just agree with you and say you're right. But not this time."

"Why?" I asked, grabbing a fork and walking back to where Tony was sitting on his couch.

"Because it doesn't matter what _you_ do, Logan loves you. You're his mini-me. His sweet little assassin daughter with a heart of gold."

"Aside from the fact that none of that makes sense, where are you going with this?" I asked, then handed him the plate and sat down beside him.

"What I'm saying is if he hears us, he's not going to say anything to you; he's just going to kill me. No questions about that. If we're lucky, he'll wait until the next day. But knowing him, he'll probably bust into the room right in the middle of it and kill me just so he can traumatize you and keep you from ever having sex again."

"Well if anything would do it, that would," I said. "But basically what you're saying is that you want me to move in here."

"It's your decision, baby. Whatever you want to do," he said, taking a bite of his food. "Hey, this is good."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's _really_ good actually."

I laughed. "No, I meant are you serious about me picking where I want to live."

"Sure."

"I want to live at the school. We can move into one of the bigger rooms, like Scott and Jean used to have. Of course now Lily takes up the extra space. I've never seen a child with so many toys."

"Really? You want to live there?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I just thought we had established that there was no privacy there."

"_You_ established it; not me," I said. "And we'll be fine. Rogue and Logan have a perfectly fine relationship in the house."

"They don't even share a room together, though."

"That's because she won't move in with him until they get married."

"But they _can't_ get married. Legally he doesn't exist, so how could they?"

"She knows it wouldn't be legal, she just want to have a ceremony to commit themselves to each other in front of God and their families."

"But why? They already do everything they would if they were married. What's the point?"

"I don't know, but I'm not asking her that. If she wants to wait, it's her prerogative and I'm not going to risk her getting pissed at me just for being nosy. You can ask and let her get mad at you."

"Thanks, I'll do that," he said, shoveling food into his mouth. "But seriously, do you really want to live at the school?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because when you get married, the man's supposed to take care of the wife. How can I take care of you living there?"

"How would you _not_ be able to?"

"You have a job that pays you very well, so financially you don't need me. You can protect yourself, so you don't need me for that either. If we live there then I'll have to get rid of my apartment, because you won't need it. You'll have your food cooked for your, you car fixed for you, if you're sick, Hank will take care of you. Why will you even need me?"

"Tony, they do all of that for me now and I need you so why would that change just because we get married and you move in?"

"I don't know. I just feel like it's my job to do all of that for you."

"Then why did you say I could pick where I wanted to live if you were just going to disagree with it? You said you didn't care, but obviously you do. So why did you say that if you didn't mean it?"

"I didn't actually think you would choose it."

"Why not? It's my home. It's been my home for over four years. My whole family lives there."

"Exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"Like I said; we're not going to have any privacy. We're never going to be alone. Ever. How are we supposed to be intimate with over two hundred kids living just down the hall?"

"You live in an apartment building; there's over two hundred people in this complex. You don't have a problem getting intimate here."

"That's because no one comes barging in on us here."

"They won't there."

"They already _have_," he said. "Or do you not remember Scott walking in on us just as I was dropping my pants?"

I let out a small laugh at the memory. "Yes, I remember would. I'll _never_ forget it."

"I'm glad you think it's funny because I didn't find a man you used to be in love with walking in on us about to have sex amusing."

"We'll just have to start locking the door."

"I thought it _was_ locked."

"Then we'll have to start double checking."

"Or we can live here and not have to worry about it."

"You know, it really annoys me when you do this. Why do you was for my opinion if you just completely disregard it?"

"You say it like I do it all the time."

"You do. And it drives me insane. I wouldn't get half as pissed if you told me what you originally wanted to do in the first place. But you tell me you don't care, I can pick, and then when I do, you ignore it and do what you wanted to do. It's frustrating."

"Well I didn't realize I annoyed you that much."

"I didn't say _you_ annoyed me; I said what you _did_ annoyed me."

"Same thing."

"No Tony, it's not."

"Well I'm sorry, then. Okay? I'm sorry that my behavior irritates you," he said, his tone unapologetic.

"What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?"

"I kind of got the crap beat out of me by a ten year old today, so I'm a little bit pissed right now, if that's okay with you?" he said. "I've been working for nearly two weeks straight with no time off, I'm tired and I'm in a _lot_ of pain. _That's_ my problem."

"You think I _want_ you to work this much? I don't and I'm not asking you to. So don't take it out on me. I would actually like to spend time with you without your cell phone ringing and your captain telling you to drag your butt back to the house because some guy had decided to up and off his wife and kids and you need to figure out how. That would be _really_ nice."

"And if I only had to work six or seven hours every few months and got paid twenty thousand dollars like you, I wouldn't have to work this much. But I don't and I have bills to pay, so I can't just quit."

"I can pay them until you can find a better job. One that's easier on our relationship."

"I'm not letting you pay my bills, Jayden. I'm a grown man; I can do it myself."

"Fine, keep your job. And when we get married and I move in here, since that's what you want, I'll just stay at home all by myself while you're at work."

"Jayden, I'm serious; I don't need to talk about this right now. I want to eat, take a shower and go to bed."

I stood up. "All right. You do that," I said. "I'm going to go home and calm down. Maybe we can talk about this later."

"Don't leave."

"We need a break right now. You can't deny that, Tony. You know when we argue we both say things we regret later. So it's better if I leave now before either of us gets to that point. Because I have a feeling it's dangerously close," I said, walking towards the door.

He put his plate down and followed after me. He grabbed my arm and turned me around. "Don't Jayden, please."

"Don't _what_?"

"Leave mad at me."

"Do you want me to stay? Because I'm just going to get even madder if I do."

"Why? Why can't we work this out?"

"I just told you Tony; when we get pissed we say things we shouldn't say. So it's better if I leave now and we talk about this tomorrow."

"I have to work tomorrow."

"Then I'll come down to the station. It's not like I've never been down there before. It's been four years now; everyone knows me there."

"What if we just drop it? Will you stay then?"

"We're not _going_ to just drop it. Maybe we will for right now, but in an hour or two, one of us is going to say something to bring it back up and we'll just get pissed again."

"I won't."

"That's bull and you know it," I said. "So go ahead and eat dinner, get some sleep, and we'll talk tomorrow."

He let go of my arm. "Fine, whatever."

"Yeah, that's mature Tony, get mad at me for trying to be rational."

"You're not being rational; you got mad at me for no reason."

"This is what I'm talking about; you're not dropping it. I don't want to fight with you. I love you, I honestly do, and I can't stay here and do this."

"What are you going to do when we get married? Are you going to walk out every time we get into a fight?"

"If that's what it takes to keep us together, then yeah, I will."

"Fighting isn't going to split us up. It hasn't so far and we've been going at each other for four years."

"Maybe I'm tired of it. You say you want to take care of me, then do it. Take care of me emotionally and mentally. _Be_ here for me. You're supposed to be my safe place," I said. "So be it."

"I'm trying. But it's hard when you keep acting like you don't need me."

"I _do_ need you. If I ever say I don't, I'm lying. I'm in love with you. I've let you in, I tell everything, good _or_ bad, and I don't push you away when I get scared. I'm _trying_, Tony. I am. I don't know what else you want me to do," I said. "I don't know what else _to_ do."

"Don't get mad at me over every little thing I say."

"I _don't_. I get mad when you say things that are stupid. Like when you say I can make a decision and you clearly don't mean it."

"Yeah, okay, I'll stop doing that."

"You treat me like I'm one of your suspects. You interrogate me. Playing good cop one minute, bad cop the next. If you're going to be with me, then you need to leave your job at the office."

"Okay," he said. "But so do you."

"I don't bring my job home with me."

"Yes you do."

"How?"

"You're standing there sizing me up, trying to figure out what my weak points are so if you wanted to kill me, you could."

"Trust me; I already know what your weak points are."

"You know what, on second thought, maybe you should leave. Or is not letting you stay long enough to win the argument one of my weak points?"

I grabbed my purse from the chair beside his door. "No, your weak points are your bad knees from high school football, your bad shoulder from when your brother broke it when you were fourteen, and the fact that you consistently leave your back and neck exposed," I said, opening his door. "Not to mention the fact that you're just a freakin' jerk."

I left his apartment and slammed the door close.

How could we get married if we couldn't even agree on where we were going to live?

* * *

I woke with a small gasp. What I had just seen wasn't a dream. I somehow knew it was real. It was something that had already happened. I just couldn't remember when.

I sat up and looked at the room around me. It took me a couple of minutes to realize where I was. Once I realized that, everything else came back.

I had amnesia and was still trying to remember it all.

I looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside my bed. It read eight in the morning.

Time to get up.

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and hair. Then I went back to my room to find something to wear. I pulled down a pair of wide leg denim trousers, obviously from my Katherine Hepburn phase, and then took a red T-shirt from a brown colored hanger and a mustard yellow V-neck sweater from the stack at the top of my closet. I changed from my pajamas I was wearing into the new clothes, then set out on a mission to find some breakfast.

As soon as I made my way into the hall, I saw Logan coming out of his room.

"Hey, I didn't see you come in last night," I said.

"That's 'cause I didn't get in 'til about five hours ago," he said. "How'd you sleep?"

"Probably better than you. I went to bed not long after dinner."

"I'm used to not gettin' much sleep, I'll be fine," he said. "You goin' down to breakfast?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. I'll walk you."

He closed his door, I walked to where he was standing in the hallway, and together we walked down to the first floor. But when I started towards the kitchen, he pulled me back and aimed me down another hall.

"Isn't that where the kitchen is?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah."

"Well, why aren't we going there? I thought we were getting breakfast?"

"We are."

"Where?"

"Dinin' room," he said. "There ain't a point it cookin' your own when it's already cooked for you and you just have to sit down and eat."

"Good point."

So I followed him to the dining hall where I was overwhelmed by the amount of people in the room. Somehow my brain knew that there was just over a hundred people there, the same as the night before, but for some reason they were affecting me differently.

Because they were all talking.

At the same time.

Very loudly.

"You okay?" Logan asked.

"No, it's really loud in here."

"I know. You'll get used to it. Just try not to listen to all of 'em."

"It's not just the sound, though. I can…_feel_ things. All of these kids are insanely emotional, that's can't possibly be normal," I said, putting pressure on my temples with my fingers. "It's giving me a headache."

"Yeah, you'll get used to that, too."

"Are you sure about that?"

He nodded. "Just focus on your own thoughts and forget what everyone else is thinkin' and feelin'."

"I'm not quite sure I know how to do that."

"You'll figure it out. Don't worry about it," he said, turning back and continuing on his way through the dining room.

He led us to a table at the end of the room where Professor Xavier, Rogue, Hank, Ororo, Scott and Lily were sitting. A man that Tony had identified in one of my pictures as Bobby sat with them.

"Good morning Logan, Jayden," Hank greeted us. "How are you doing this morning?"

"I've been better McCoy," Logan said, sitting down beside Rogue. She gave him a kiss. "How'd you sleep, darlin'?"

"Good. Thanks, sugah," she said. She looked up at me. "How about you, Jayden? Are you feelin' any better today?"

"A little bit," I said, taking the empty seat beside Scott and across from Logan.

"What's wrong with you?" the man named Bobby asked.

"She has amnesia," Logan said, grabbing a plate and quickly piling food on it.

"Are you freakin' serious?"

"Language!" Rogue hissed, nodding her head towards Lily who was happily distracted by her pancakes. She was making a face on them with sliced fruit and nuts.

"All I said was 'freakin'; Logan says a lot worse," he whispered to her loudly.

"I don't in front of the kid," Logan said, stabbing a stack of five pancakes and putting them on his plate.

"It's not like she can hear me. She's too busy playing with her food to notice what I'm saying," he defended.

"It doesn't matter," Rogue said.

"Well will someone just answer me? Does Jayden really have amnesia or are you guys just messing around with me?"

Logan cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you callin' me a liar?"

"It's not nice to call people liars," Lily said, eating the strawberry nose from her pancake face.

"No it's not, sweetie," Scott said, smiling at her.

Rogue gave Bobby a small smirk. "Too bad she's too busy to hear us talkin', ain't it?" she said. "And to answer your question; yes, Jayden _does_ have amnesia."

He looked at me. "So you don't remember anything?" he asked.

"Ain't that what 'amnesia' means, Frosty?" Logan snapped at him.

"I've never had it, so I wouldn't know," Bobby shot back. "Old man."

"It's not nice to call people old, either," Lily said.

"He called me Frosty, that wasn't nice," he said.

"But Frosty isn't a mean name, Uncle Bobby. Frosty the Snowman is cool. Calling someone 'old' is mean. Uncle Logan called you a nice name."

"But did Uncle Logan bring you ice skates from Boston?"

"No."

"So who's _really_ nicer?"

"Well," she said, putting her fork down and surveying the table around her. Her face was very serious and studious. "I think the nicest is Uncle Hank or Uncle Chuck."

I watched as everyone laughed, even Bobby, and I wished I could remember being a part of it all. I wanted to feel like I understood the joke, even as small and silly as it was. But I didn't.

* * *

After breakfast, everyone went their own ways. Except for me. I sat at the table with Scott and Lily as he cleaned off the food she had gotten on her face and hands while eating.

"What are you doing today?" he asked me.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do," I said. "What about you?"

"I'm taking Lily over to her friend's house to play." He looked at me. "Do you want to come with me? It might help you to get out of the house."

"I don't want to impose."

He smiled at me. "It's not imposing if I invite you," he said.

"What does 'imposing' mean?" Lily asked as Scott licked his thumb and wiped at a melted chocolate chip in the corner of her mouth.

"Imposing means doing something without asking someone first."

"I thought that was called being impolite?"

"Well, imposing is impolite, so it's sort of the same thing," he said. "Why don't you go upstairs and get ready to leave? You have to get dressed and brush your teeth, okay?"

"Okay," she said, before running out of the room.

"Go slow sweetie," he called after her. He shook his head as she all but ignored him. "I'll be surprised if she makes it another year without breaking a bone."

"It may be a stupid question, because I know she looks so much like you, but does she look like her mother at all?"

He ran his hand across his face and I heard the skin rub against his whiskers, making a low scratchy sound. "She has Jean's nose. And ears. But that's about it. Every once in a while I'll catch her with an expression that looks like her. But there's no denying she's my daughter."

"Well, she's adorable."

He smiled. "Thank you," he said. "So what do you say? Do you want to ride with me to take her to her friend's house?"

"I don't want to bother you."

"You wouldn't," he said. "You would actually be doing me a big favor. I would owe you."

"And why is that?"

"The mother of Lily's friend, Gabriella, she's single. And she's been trying to get me to out with her for a while now. She's pretty pushy."

"Why don't you want to go out with her? Is she ugly or something?"

"No, no, she's very pretty. But she's…not my type."

"What _is_ your type?"

"You know, I don't really know. I met Jean when I was fourteen and fell in love with her. We were together for almost twenty years when she died. And aside from you, I was never interested in anyway but her. Now Lily's the main woman in my life. I don't need anyone else."

"You don't _need_ or you don't _want_? Because there seems to be a bit of a difference there."

His smile vanished. "You're right; I don't _want_ anyone else. But there's nothing wrong with that. Lily has all the mother figures she needs."

"But do you have what _you_ need?"

He looked at me. "How can you forget everything but still know how to grill me?"

I shrugged. "Instincts?"

His smile returned slightly. "That would be instinctual for you, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know," I said. "But you still didn't answer my question."

"I have everything I need, Jayden."

"Do you?"

"Yes. Maybe not everything I _want_, but when become a parent things change. You don't _get_ everything you want. Your child comes first. They become your number one priority."

"They also become an excuse to give up what you're too scared to go after."

"Maybe," he said. "But you don't have a kid, so you don't understand."

"Did I ever want kids?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You said you never saw yourself as a mother."

"Why?" I asked again.

"My guess is that you were always afraid you would be too much like your birth mother."

"But she didn't raise me, so why would I be like her?"

"Logan didn't raise you; you're just like him."

"Am I?"

"Oh yeah," he said with a smile.

"Maybe it's because I've been with him for eight years. Maybe I've just picture up on his personality traits."

"You were like him _before_ you met him. I'm afraid it's genetic," he joked slightly.

"There's something I don't understand."

"What?"

"If I act so much like him, and you hate him, how were you ever interested in me?"

His smiled returned. "That's a very good question," he said.

"Is it one that you have an answer for?"

"You're a very beautiful woman, Jayden. You're smart, funny and charming. Logan is _none_ of that."

"You don't think Logan's a beautiful woman?" I joked.

His smile widened and I saw his dimples. "No, he's a very ugly woman, sorry."

I laughed. "I'm really hoping that you've never seen him dressed as one."

"No, thankfully," he said. "So are you going to go with me to drop Lily off? She's not quite old enough for me to just drop her off at the door. I still walk her in, so if you go with me, maybe her mom won't ask me out."

"You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?"

"Not quite…well kind of…yeah," he said. "But I'll owe you. I'll but you a pint of Ben and Jerry's Half Baked. I promise."

"Do I like Half Baked?"

"It's your favorite. You usually bribe me into buying it for you whenever you do a favor for me."

"Okay then. If you agree to buy me ice cream, I can pretend to be your girlfriend for a few minutes, I guess."

He smiled at me again. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet; I still don't remember a lot so I may very well mess this whole thing up."

"I doubt it. You tend to lie quite well."

"Is that really a _good_ thing?"

He shrugged. "I guess it depends on the situation you're in."

"Would you tell Lily that?"

He laughed. "No, she doesn't lie."

"Never?"

"She knows that I won't be mad if she's honest and tells the truth about whatever she's done," he said. "If she lies, she gets in trouble."

"So what if she kicks a kid on purpose and then tells you about it? Does she get away with it because she was honest about it?"

"No, she gets punished for it."

"So why not just lie about it and hope to get away with it?"

"You know, you had the exact same argument when I was trying to teach her that the first time around."

"Did I?"

"Yeah."

"Well I guess I must feel like it's a pretty compelling argument or I wouldn't keep bringing it up, would I?"

"I guess not."

I let out a sight and stood from the table. "Well, I suppose I better go get ready if you're going to need me to ward of other women," I said. "Do you have any request for what outfit I wear?"

"What you have on is fine," he said, following me and standing up.

"Are you sure? You wouldn't prefer some black, sexy little number?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Not unless you're planning on going to a motel afterwards or something."

My mouth turned up in a half smile before a memory flashed across my mind.

It was a dark hotel room. I could see snow falling from the graying sky through the small crack in the curtains that had been pulled shut haphazardly.

The only sounds were sharp intakes of breath, soft moaning, and the sound of the mattress squeaking as it moved back and forth.

The bodies buried under the covers were slow, not frantic. Each movement had a meaning behind it.

I watched as the couple interlocked hands and kissed passionately. They knew each other far too well for it to have been their first time together. Yet it was.

It was the first and only time that Scott and I ever made love.

The memory left my mind as quickly as it had came to me and as soon as the images faded, I shook my head in disbelief.

"You and I did that once before, didn't we?"

"Did what?" he asked.

"Went to a hotel. You were joking just now, but we really did do that once," I said. "You made love to me, didn't you?"

He nodded slowly, his eye line moving away from mine as he blushed slightly. "Yeah, once."

"Why?"

"You asked me to."

"It was that simple?"

"Yeah."

"Did you ever regret it?"

He looked back up at me. "No, not once," he said. "You deserved…you _deserve_, to be with someone who genuinely loves you. If I could give you that for one night, it was the least I could do."

"But yesterday you said you weren't still in love with me."

He gave me a slight sad smile. "You're not the only one who can lie."

"Did you ever tell me that you were in love with me?"

He nodded again. "Yeah, I did."

"Then why aren't we together?"

"Because we agreed it would be too complicated for Lily. She was only four and you were afraid if anything happened to us, she would get caught in the middle," he said. "I know you don't remember her, but you love her and you've been the best mother she's ever known. You've been in love with me since you were eighteen and you gave up being with me so she wouldn't get hurt."

"But why didn't you tell me that yesterday? Why did you lie to me?"

"Because I thought it would be best for you to remember it yourself. I didn't want to bombard you with all of it," he said. "And maybe it was easier for me to pretend for right then that that was the truth."

"So when did we agree we could be together?"

"When Lily's old enough to understand."

"She seems smart enough to understand now."

"Yeah, she does, doesn't she?"

"So what are you waiting for?"

"You," he said. "You have to remember me now."

"Well I hope you're patient."

"I am," he said. "I can wait on you."

I understood that most people would have been concerned over a memory of making love to someone they considered a stranger. But I wasn't. There was something about Scott that was calming and settling to me. And the promise that he would wait for me to remember him made something inside of me decide that I needed to work harder to remember.


	5. I Can't Help Falling In Love

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. But I do love comments, so show me some love, ya'll. Are you enjoying the story so far?

* * *

After Scott, Lily and I got ready, we all left. I did as Scott had asked and went into Lily's friend Gabriella's house with him to attempt to keep her mother from asking him out. It worked. It didn't, however, stop her from flirting with him. But after a few subtly dropped hints, Scott's hand continually placed on my back and a few sly smiles my way from him, she stopped.

While we were there, pretending to be 'together', I realized how natural it felt. And suddenly I got what Tony had been telling me the day before.

He said that as part of my job as an assassin, I would work undercover. I would interact with my targets, disguise myself, and work my way into a situation that would put my targets at ease. I _was_ good at lying. It was my job. What I did for a living. Even though I didn't know, or _remember_, who Scott was, I felt completely at ease acting as if we were together.

I was glad I just didn't have to kill him.

After we dropped Lily off, we headed to a convenience store where Scott bought two pints of ice cream. He was going to drive us back to the house, but I asked if we could stay out a little longer. He agreed and pulled over to an empty parking lot of an old K-Mart that had been closed down. Then he found two plastic spoons still in their wrappers in his glove compartment and we sat in his car, eating ice cream.

"Can I ask a question?" I asked, taking a bite of the Half Baked and understanding why it was my favorite.

"Sure."

"Why did I break up with Tony? Was it because of us?"

"I don't think so. We weren't together until after the two of you broke up. But you never told me why you did it."

"But I told Logan?"

"I don't know."

"Well he knows somehow, so I had to have told him, right?"

"Not necessarily, no," he said, taking a bite of his Cherry Garcia. "You and Logan have this weird thing where you can just look in each others eyes and see what the other one's seen. It's like it plays in your mind somehow, or something. I don't know. I never really understood it, to be quite honest."

"That seems slightly…creepy, no?"

He smiled. "Yeah, it does. But you never seemed to mind it. I think that's one of the reasons why you're so close; you're always inside each other's minds."

"So we're really that close, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Does he know we slept together?"

He smiled. "No, he doesn't. You never told him and you made sure he never found out. I think it's the only secret you ever kept from him," he said. "It's probably the only thing that's kept him from killing me after all these years, too."

I let out a sigh. "There's so many secrets. No wonder I can't remember anything; I always kept everything hidden."

"There's nothing wrong with that. You like your personal space; you don't want everyone to know everything about you. It's understandable to want to keep a part of you to yourself."

I looked over at him. "You do the same thing, don't you? You keep things hidden from people."

"You and I were very much alike when we first met. Neither of us liked showing certain emotions because we thought it was weak. We didn't let people get too close to us because we were scared to get hurt. We both needed to be in control," he said. "I'm not saying we're not still like that, but we've helped each other out a lot. And having Lily has changed me more than anything."

"But that's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah. It's a very good thing. Having the two of you in my life has always made me want to be a better man. I think that's good."

We finished eating our ice cream in silence, but when we were through, we didn't move. He kept the car parked right where it was. Neither of us wanted to leave.

I looked over at him and saw his hands resting on the bottom of the steering wheel. I felt a strong urge to reach out and touch them.

"Would it be weird if I asked to touch your hands?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No," he said, moving his hands and turning in his seat so that I could reach them better.

I ran the tips of my fingers over the tops of his hands, across his knuckles and down the length of his fingers. I turned them over, tracing the lines in his palms. The skin was tough, like he had used them a lot. The weight of his large hands felt nice against my own small ones.

I touched his hands, and I could feel all the times he had used them to touch me. To hold my hand, to caress my face, to pull my body into his. To hug me, to hold me to him. I touched him and I felt it all.

"How could I forget you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He took my hands and put them to his face. I ran them over the contours, as if I were blind, feeling his cheek bones, his strong jaw, the stubble that ran along them both. I ran my fingers over his chin and then up to his mouth. They found his lips and slowly, carefully, moved across them.

He didn't move as he let me explore his face. He let me take my time, and I did, until I noticed his breathing. It was heavy and I could feel the heat from his mouth against my face. The touch of my hands weren't enough; he wanted more.

Like two magnets, our faces drew closer to one another until our foreheads touched, our noses bumped into each other. Our mouths were an inch away. His hand went up to my hair, stroking it, then finally settling to cradle my head.

Then he kissed me.

And everything was okay.

* * *

Scott and I stayed in the old K-Mart parking lot for almost an hour. He was catching up on lost time and I was getting to know him all over again. We kissed for a while and then we got into the backseat and he just held me. That was it. He held me. Nothing more. I didn't want to leave, I didn't want him to let me go, but when he got an urgent call from the school, we had to go back. The whole way there, he held my hand.

As soon as we got to the mansion, Storm told Scott that they had to go on a mission to Morocco. He left with her and Bobby immediately and I didn't know what to do without him. So I decided to go up to my room and try to find something worth occupying my time until he got back. I was walking down the hall when I saw Logan.

"Where the heck have you been?" he asked.

"I was out with Scott. He took Lily over to a friend's house and I went with him."

"I've been lookin' all over the freakin' place for you. I didn't know where you were."

"Sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to tell you I was leaving."

"You weren't."

"What was I supposed to do then?"

"Nothing. It just would've been nice to know where you were so I wouldn't be wanderin' around lookin' for you."

"I'm sorry. I'll let you know next time," I said, continuing down the hall. But he stopped me before I got to my room. "What?"

He stared down at me. "You feelin' alright?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You look funny."

"Funny how?"

"Don't know. Kind'a dazed."

I shrugged. "I feel fine. I feel great, actually," I said with a smile.

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Are you on drugs?" he asked, not a hint of humor in his voice.

"No."

"What've you and Summers been doin' for the last hour? 'Cause it doesn't take that long to drop the kid off at any of her friend's houses."

I let out a contented sigh. "We were eating ice cream. Do you know how _fantastic_ Cherry Garcia tastes?"

"What're talkin' about? You eat Half Baked, _Scott_ eats Cherry Garcia," he said. The he looked in my eyes. I remembered what Scott had told me about him being able to see what I had when he looked into them, so I tried looking away. But it was too late; he had seen enough. "You were _kissin_' him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir'," he said. "And what the heck were you doin' kissin' him? You barely remember him."

"I remember enough."

"Do you remember how many times he hurt you?"

"No."

"Then you don't remember enough."

"Well, with all due respect, I'm an adult and I think I can make my own decisions."

"Not right now you can't."

"Why not?"

"You don't remember anything."

"I feel comfortable with Scott."

"Apparently a little _too_ comfortable," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Why do you care? Everyone keeps telling me that we're close but ever since I woke up yesterday, you've been pretty rude to me."

"That's how we are. You'll get over it."

"Then you can get over me kissing Scott. It was _my_ decision, I'm a big girl, and I'll deal with the consequences. Not you."

"No, I _do_ deal with 'em; you always come cryin' to me when he hurts you."

"Well I just won't let him hurt me this time," I said. "It's not like I have a ton of emotional attachment to him. Right now…I don't know, I'm just getting to know him again. There's nothing wrong with that."

"You know, I was wrong yesterday; you _have_ lost your common sense, kid."

"Why does kissing him mean that I've lost my common sense? Kissing is a natural thing, yes? It's a _common_ thing, therefore no loss of common sense," I said. "And if Scott's such a terrible person, then why didn't you warn me about him earlier? You could have told me yesterday that he was the one who was married and I was in love with and caused me to have a mental breakdown, but you didn't. So if anything, this would be _your_ fault. Not mine."

"That's great; blame this all on me."

"I'm not blaming you. There's nothing to blame you for. I don't have a problem with kissing Scott. You do. He hasn't hurt me."

"Not yet."

"You're not a very positive person, are you?"

"No and neither are you normally."

"This isn't a normal situation."

I continued on and he followed behind me.

"That doesn't give you an excuse to be actin' like that, though."

"Acting like what?" I asked, opening my bedroom door.

"Like just 'cause you don't remember who you are, you can do whatever you want."

"Why can't I? What's wrong with that?" I asked. "How did _you_ act when you lost _your_ memory? Did you act like yourself or someone else?"

"I didn't act like myself; I didn't know who I was."

"And neither do I," I said, walking into my bedroom and taking off my coat.

"Yeah you do; we're all tellin' you who you are."

"Fine then," I said, turning to face him. "Maybe I just don't like who I am. Maybe I don't like what I'm finding out about me."

"Like what?"

"Like I kill people, for one. Murdering people for money is bad no matter how you cut it. It doesn't matter _why_ I do it," I said. "And I'm apparently very controlling and don't like letting people get close to me. I can't let anyone win an argument and I wouldn't doubt it if that's why Tony and I broke up. I was a complete brat to him."

"You're a brat to everyone, we get over it. Tony knew what you were before he proposed to you and he knew what he was gettin' into. That's not why you broke up."

"Then why did we?"

"Ask him."

"I did."

"If he didn't tell you, then it ain't my business to."

"This is what I'm talking about; _secrets_. That's my whole life. I tell one person one thing and another something else. I'm not just _honest_. So even though you and everyone else are _trying_ to tell me who I am, none of you really know. Because so far, I've discovered that I _rarely_ tell the truth."

"Get over it; people lie to each other all the time. You're not the only one."

"You're my father, right?"

"That's what they tell me."

"And we're close?"

"Yeah."

"Then how can you just tell me to get over me or other people lying? Aren't you supposed to be my moral compass or something?"

"More like 'or something'. I don't know what you remember about me darlin', but I ain't a nice guy."

"Oh, I've noticed, trust me," I said. "I just don't understand how we can be so close when we all do is pretty much argue."

"We don't argue this much all the time. But this amnesia is makin' you a pain. You haven't been this annoyin' in years."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. "You're a very lovely person yourself."

"Think whatever you want about me, I don't care, but I'm tellin' you I know what I'm talkin' about; Summers has hurt you before and if you keep usin' all this other crap as an excuse to get close to him, he's gonna hurt you again."

"Why are you so invested in my relationship? Why aren't you concentrating on your own?"

"What's that supposed to mean."

"It's supposed to mean that you've been dating Rogue for _years_ and she wants to get married but you don't. Maybe you need to work on that."

"That's none of your business."

"Why is who I kiss your business but who you date isn't mine?"

"'Cause I'm your father, that's just how it is."

"Why?"

"'Cause I said do."

"That's not fair."

"Life ain't fair. Those are the rules."

"Who made these rules? They suck."

"I made 'em. You have your rules so I have mine."

"But I don't remember my rules."

"That's tough, but it ain't my fault, kid."

"Well I change my rules and now I'm making it my business to know why you won't marry Rogue so tell me."

"Legally -"

"Yeah, legally you can't, I know. But she doesn't care about that. She just wants a ceremony."

He cocked his eyebrow at me. "How do you know that?"

"Last night I had a vision-dream thingy and saw me talking about it. Why don't you want to marry her?"

"I do."

"Then why don't you?" I asked. "I mean, you _are_ in love with her, right?"

"Yeah."

"So what's the problem?"

"I'm old, I've been with a lotta women and I ain't got a good track record with any of 'em."

"So you're not good in relationships. You've made this one last five years, that seems pretty good to me."

"I'm not talkin' about how long I've been with 'em. I don't have a problem with that."

"What do you have a problem with, then?"

"They all die."

"People are _supposed_ to die."

"When they're old, yeah," he said. "But all the women I've married have a habit of dyin' before their time."

"You're afraid if you marry her, she'll _die_?" I asked. "Isn't that a little superstitious?"

"Call it whatever you want, I don't care, but I don't exactly feel like losin' someone else right now."

"How many have you lost?"

"Enough to know I don't want to lose anymore."

"Have you told her that?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say?"

"She said she didn't care. She's just as thick headed and stubborn as me, so there's not much of a point in tellin' her anyway. She just ignores it and does whatever she wants."

I sat down on my bed and looked up at him. "Why are you mad at me for not being able to remember?"

"I'm not."

"Yeah you are. I can feel it."

"I'm mad 'cause instead of tryin' to figure it all out, you're sneakin' off to kiss Summers."

"I didn't sneak off and I _am_ trying," I said. "But you told me not to try too hard."

"No, what I said is stop worryin'. You haven't."

"No, you told me to stop trying," I muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," I said. "What am I supposed to do? Because I woke up yesterday completely blank. I think I'm doing a pretty good job. And I think kissing Scott isn't hurting anything. It's something I've done before so what if it helps me remember?"

"Yeah, it just might," he said, his tone harsh and sarcastic. "It might help you remember the first time you kiss him and he told you it was a mistake, that he couldn't be what you wanted him to be."

He moved from my door and began walking towards me. "It could help you remember about the time he told you that you made him happy and he wanted to be with you, then Jean came back the very next day and he didn't even try to explain it to you. It might help you remember how while she was dyin', he kept tellin' you how much you meant to him, how much he needed you, and how much he loved you, but he couldn't be with you."

He stopped right in front of me, bent down, his arms on either side of me, and looked me in the eyes. "You keep doin' this and you just might remember something you wished you could've forgotten, 'cause sometimes you forget things for a _reason_."

I wanted to look away from him, but I couldn't. I wanted to say something, but my lips wouldn't move. I didn't understand how he could be my father, how could I be so close to him, and yet how he could scare and intimidate me with just a look. I sat there, staring at him, shaking slightly, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what he _wanted_ me to do. I hadn't since meeting him the day before.

"Have you never hurt me before?" I managed to ask. "Have you never done anything to hurt me?"

"No, I've done a lot to hurt you."

"Then what's the difference?"

"I don't do it on purpose."

"But it hurts all the same, doesn't it? No matter if it's on purpose or not."

He stood up straight and took a few steps back. "Yeah," he said, "it's the same thing."

"Can you give me time to figure this all out, please? Just give me time and I might be able to remember and then I can decide more on what to do about Scott. Can you be patient with me until then?"

"Yeah. If you can keep your head straight 'til then."

I nodded. "I will," I said. "I mean, I'll try to anyway."

"Good," he said. "Now what're you gonna do?"

"About what?"

"Not 'about' anything. What're you gonna do today?"

"Oh, like right now?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. Why?"

"McCoy wanted to run a CT scan to see how bad the damage is to your head. He thought he might be able to gauge how long it'll take for you to recover if he could check it out."

"Do CT scans hurt?"

"No. You just lay there and don't move."

"How long does it take?"

"About fifteen minutes, maybe twenty."

"Does he want to do it now?"

"Yeah."

"Then I guess that's what I'm going to do right now," I said, standing up from my bed. "Can we call a truce?"

"For what? Me bein' a jerk and you bein' a brat?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"I told you, kid; we do this all the time. If you can get over it, I don't have a problem with it. This is how we get along."

"By _not_ getting along?"

"By not bein' afraid of hurtin' the other's feelin's by sayin' what we really think about each other."

"So is that a 'yes' on the truce?"

He gave me a semi-smile. "Yeah."

"Good," I said. "Would you mind walking me down to Dr. McCoy…er, Hank's office? I don't know if I could find it again on my own."

"Yeah, come on."

He walked with me down to Hank's office, but when Hank started the CT scan, he didn't leave. I thought he would, but he didn't. And knowing he was there made me feel more comfortable. I couldn't explain how he could go from being scary and intimidating to _comforting_. But somehow it was possible.

True to his word, the scan didn't hurt. But it was boring. I had a hard time lying completely still for twenty minutes. I was extremely tempted to start waving my arms and legs around just to keep me from going crazy. But I didn't.

When the scan was over, I got up and followed Logan and Hank over to his office proper where he told me the results. He shouldn't have been able to get them back for nearly a week, but the Professor had apparently dug down into his pockets to get a machine that would pop out results sooner thanks to my habit of getting concussions way too often.

"The good news is that you have no damage, with the exception to the bruise on your forehead," Hank said.

"What's the bad news, then?" I asked.

"Well, since there's no damage, it makes me wonder why you have amnesia. We were under the assumption that it was caused by the fall and the rock that hit you afterwards. But the scan shows no signs of what we would look for in amnesia caused by injury."

"What does that mean? If it wasn't caused by my injury, what was it caused by?"

"Sometimes when this occurs, the patient has often experienced something traumatic. The amnesia is the brain's coping mechanism, a way to protect itself from what it's experienced. A safety switch, if you like."

"No, I _don't_ like," I said.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid that's all there is to it. I can't think of any other reason."

I looked over at Logan. "Do you know of anything that could have traumatized me enough to make me forget everything?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, you tell me everything, I would know if something was bothering you that bad."

"So what now? If it's not from an injury and nothing happened to me, then why can't I remember? Why did I forget?"

"It is possible that it's completely random, but…I just don't see that," Hank said. "No offense to you Logan, I know that you and Jayden are very close and that she confides in you very much, but I strongly believe that something happened to bring the amnesia on."

"And no offense to you, but I strongly believe you're wrong," Logan said.

Hank let out a sigh. "There's just no other explanation for it."

"And you're positive that there's no damage?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm quite positive."

I nodded. "Okay, well, like you said; the good news is that I _don't_ have any brain damage. And Logan said that nothing happened to traumatize me," I said. "So we have to work from there, right? We've already eliminated those two and even though you said there was no other explanation, there has to be. Now we just have to figure out what it is."

"Jayden -" Hank started.

"No," I said, cutting him off. "There's a reason, there has to be. So we have to figure it out. There's no other option, I can't just sit around, hoping to wake up one day and remember everything. The only way anything can get done is if I act. That's what I have to do. So I will."

"Well, my dear, I believe that you can do whatever you set your mind to. If you need me to ever help you, feel free to ask for whatever you need. But I'm afraid that this is as far as my medical experience can take you."

I stood up from where I was sitting in front of his desk. "Well, thank you, Hank," I said. "I appreciate your help."

He stood up after me and smiled. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I really do hope that you'll be able to remember everything soon."

"Do you need me for anything else?"

"No, you're free to go."

"Thank you," I said, giving him a smile. "I'm going to go to my room, but I guess I'll see you later."

"Yes, I'll see you at lunch."

I gave him another smile and told him 'bye' before leaving his office. Logan was right behind me. Neither of us spoke on the way to the elevator, as we got in, or when the doors closed. But after he pressed the button for the second floor and the elevator car started moving, he pressed the emergency stop button. The car stopped with a shutter and I grabbed onto one of the rails to steady myself.

"What's going on?" I asked, worried. "Why did you stop the elevator?"

He stared at me. "Come over here," he said, pointing to the stop directly in front of him. "I need to look in your eyes."

"Why?"

"If there's something goin' on, I need to know. And I need to look in your eyes and see if there's something you haven't told me."

"But if I don't remember it, can you still see it?"

"I don't know. We're about to find out."

I did as he said and walked over to him, stopping just a few inches from his face. "So what do I do?"

"Just stand there and look at me," he said. "Think you can do that?"

I nodded. "I think so."

"Good," he said, "now don't move."

I tried to stay still as he stared in my eyes, but after a few seconds, I began to feel uncomfortable. The act of just standing and allowing him to stare in my eyes seemed too intimate. It felt more like he was staring into my soul. Like he could see everything about me, even if I couldn't see it myself.

He continued staring at me for what felt like forever and I felt more vulnerable by the second. So when he let out a sigh and looked away, I felt relieved.

"Did you see anything?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

"You slept with Summers."

"Oh, uh, well…about that…" I stammered nervously. "I don't remember it. I mean, I do, but not really." I gulped. "You know?"

He stared down at me again. His look changed from concentration to anger. "No," he said. "I _don't_ know."

"I can't give you an excuse for why I didn't tell you when it happened -"

"I don't want an excuse; I want an _answer_," he said, a growl punctuating the last word.

"I, um…" I shook my head, looking away from him to avoid eye contact. "I don't have one, sir," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't call me 'sir' and look at me when I'm talkin' to you," he said. I looked back up at him but still tried to avoid his eyes. "When did you remember it?"

"This morning."

"Before or after you and Summers were makin' out?"

"Before."

"Did he know you remembered it?"

I nodded. "Yes," I said quietly. "I told him when I remembered it."

"So he took advantage of you?"

"No sir…I mean no…no." I was a nervous wreck talking to him. I was stammering and didn't know what to say. "The idea was mutual."

"Good," he said. "But I'm still gonna kill him."

"You're exaggerating, right?"

"No, I'm not."

"What? You can't just _kill_ him."

"Really? Are you gonna stop me?"

"Could I?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Logan, it was _once _-"

"And it's gonna be the _only_ time," he said, interrupting me.

All the fear and intimidation disappeared and was suddenly replaced by anger. I was a grown women; he couldn't tell me what to do.

"I'm an adult now and I was an adult when I slept with him. Just because I have amnesia doesn't mean that I'm an invalid. I can make my own decisions. I don't need someone telling me who I can kiss or sleep with," I said. "I don't remember why I didn't tell you about it to begin with, but if I had to guess, it was probably because I knew you would react this way."

"How am I _supposed_ to react?" he barked.

"I don't know, how about being happy that I get to be with someone who, under normal circumstances, I'm head over heels in love with? I don't get a feeling of sadness or hurt from him. All I get is warmth and happiness, cheesy as that may sound, I don't care," I said. "Are you pissed because I was with him or just that I didn't tell you?"

"Both."

"I'm a twenty-six year old woman; I'm allowed to have some secrets from my father."

"What other kind of secrets have you kept then, huh? What else have you done you haven't told me about?"

"I wouldn't know, would I? I kind of have freakin' _amnesia_, man!" I yelled. "I don't _remember_ anything!"

"Well you obviously remember enough, don't you?" he snapped. He ran his hand over his face and shook his head. "So now something may have happened that you didn't tell me about that made you forget."

"Maybe it's just me, but I kind of have a feeling that choosing not to tell you about something that happened to me that was traumatic and not telling you about having _sex_ with someone are two _extremely_ different things," I said. "Maybe I'm just not comfortable discussing my sex life with you."

"No, you don't have a problem with that."

"You also told me I didn't have problems with killing people, lying, or attempting to commit suicide," I said. "Things change, Logan. Maybe I have, too."

He stared at me for a few moments longer. "Yeah, I've noticed," he said. Then he pressed the emergency button again, causing the elevator to start moving back up once again. "You still stickin' to what you said earlier about cuttin' it off with Scott 'til you start rememberin' things again?"

"Are you going to mention any of this to him?"

"I don't know."

I looked up at him as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. "If you don't say anything to him about this, if you don't tell him that you knew we slept together, I'll cool it off with him until I remember everything again," I said. "If you tell him, if he finds out, then everything goes out the window. Deal?"

He thought for a second before nodding. "Yeah, deal."

Then we both left and started towards our own rooms. I couldn't be with him anymore. I needed my own space. I needed to be away from him, so I went to my room, shut the door and locked it.

I thought about crying, but decided it wouldn't help, so there was no point in it. I looked around my room and saw my cell phone sitting on my nightstand. I walked over to it and picked it up. I clicked around until I found my phone book. I scrolled through it until I reached the bottom. The three last numbers were Tony Cell, Tony Home, and Tony Office.

I tried his home number first, but there was no answer. Then his cell, but again, no answer. I had almost given up when I called his office number. After four rings I thought I wouldn't be able to reach him and was about to hang up when there was finally an answer.

"Yeah, De Luca."

"Tony?"

"Jayden?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine. I just…I don't know, I feel like I'm going a bit mad here. I look around and there's so many things that are almost familiar, but I can't quite remember it. It's all just giving me a headache; I don't know what to do."

"I'm sorry."

I slid to the floor and anchored myself there, leaning back against the wall. "Do you ever feel like running away from everything? Just saying screw it, leaving it all behind and going somewhere where no one knows who you are, they don't have any expectations of you, they don't get disappointed when you do something out of the ordinary? Do you ever feel that way?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Why don't you?"

"I did once. I moved from California to here. I only knew two people: You and my partner, Dave O'Reily. I got to start all over."

"Did you ever regret it?"

"No."

"That's good."

"Why do you ask?"

"Because right now I desperately want to run away and I'm wondering if I'll regret it."

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know. The circus maybe. I could sell cotton candy, or something."

He laughed. "Baby, you could be the high-wire act," he said, then his laugh stopped. "Sorry, I shouldn't have called you baby. Old habit."

"All terms of endearment are welcomed right now. Even ones from old boyfriends I barely remember."

He let out another small laugh. "Then apology retracted."

I smiled. "Retraction accepted."

"Should I even ask how today's been considering you want to run away and join the circus?"

"It's been confusing to say the least," I said. "To say the _very_ least."

"Hey, look, I'm about to leave to get lunch -"

"Oh, right, sorry, I'll let you go."

"No, that's not what I was going to say. I'm not trying to get you off the phone," he said. "I was going to say that I'm going to get lunch, what if I swung by and picked you up?"

"But you're at work."

"I know. You can come down and hang out at the station with me. It might help to get out of the house."

"Won't your captain mind?"

"He might if he didn't like you so much."

"Are you sure they won't mind?"

"Yeah, it'll be good. Everyone down here knows you. They all love you."

"And I won't bother you?"

"No, Jayden, you're not going to bother me. Why would you?"

"I don't know. I saw us last night. We were fighting. I thought maybe we might not get along as much anymore."

"We got along okay yesterday, didn't we?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"What did you see exactly? What were we fighting about?"

"We couldn't agree on where we were going to live when we got married."

"Was that the 'I'm insecure and don't want to live with your family' argument?"

"I guess so. That's what we were arguing about."

"Yeah, we never did settle that one," he said. "So what do you say? Come entertain me while I'm pretending to do paperwork?"

I smiled. "Yeah, that sounds good to me."

"Good. Get ready and I'll be there to pick you up in about thirty minutes. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"All right. I'll see you in a little bit."

"Bye."

"Wait, Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone but didn't move. I felt comfortable in the floor, curled up against myself, and I didn't want to let that go. I wanted to hang onto that comfort as long as possible, because I knew it would be one of the last times I would feel comfortable until my memory was sorted out and fixed.

I knew somehow that by turning away from that comfort, by forcing myself to face the uncertain, the unfamiliar, the _uncomfortable_, I was keeping myself on my toes. If I didn't close everything off and just stay in what I discovered was my comfort zone, I would be forced to face it all and learn.

So, hard as it was, I couldn't allow myself to get comfortable. But right then, for those few minutes, I let myself let go and just absorb it.


	6. You Save Me

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. But I hope ya'll enjoy!

* * *

Almost thirty minutes after hanging up with Tony, he was there at the house, ready to pick me up. I climbed into his car and buckled up.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"A little bit, yeah."

"How does barbeque sound?"

"It sounds good, I guess. Do I like-?"

My sentence was cut short as my vision began to blur. Everything slid out of focus. And when everything aligned back up, I wasn't in Tony's car.

I was in a prison cell.

It was small. Dark. Cold. And from the looks of it, empty.

But I was wrong.

There was definitely something there.

A dark shape moved on the floor, but I couldn't tell what it was. Was it human? Was it an animal? I didn't know. I watched the mass move in the darkness for a while before the door to the cell finally slid open.

Light poured in, covering the floor, banishing the shadows, and showing that the figure I had been watching was a human. A girl. She was covered in dirt and blood. Her hair was matted and hung down around her, hiding her face. But when she looked up, I could see it. And I recognized it.

The girl was me.

As the door opened, I pressed myself against the wall. Hiding in the corner and shielding my eyes from the blinding light.

"You have a guest," a man said, shoving another man into my cell.

He was wearing ripped, dirty shorts and a burlap hood over his head. His hands were tied at the wrist. They pushed him into the cell, he stumbled and fell to his knees.

The man who had brought him in spit on him before slamming the cell door closed. The room was once again thrust into darkness.

There were a few minutes of silence as I listened from my corner as the men walked away.

"You just gonna sit there or are you gonna get this bag off my head and untie my hands?"

It was Logan.

"I was waiting for the men to leave. I didn't want them to hear us," I whispered, moving over to him. I pulled the hood off his head. "Don't expect this to make much of a difference; it's pitch black in here."

"I don't care; the bag's makin' me sweat," he whispered back. "Get my hands too."

"Have patience, dude, I'm getting there. It's a little hard to untie knots when I can't even see them," I said. "Do they know about your claws?"

"You think they would have tied my hands like this if they did?"

"Good point."

"How they been treatin' you?"

"Not as bad as they could be. First couple of days they just withheld food. They gave me a bit of water and some nasty bread, but that was it. Third day they woke me up by spraying me with a pressure washer. The water was freezing cold. Then they took turns kicking and punching me. I blacked out a couple of times. I lost track of the days after that."

"Anything broken?"

"No, I don't think so. They beat me, but not hard enough to break anything. Just enough to piss me off. But I think they're holding back for a reason," I said, pulling the rope away from his hands.

"They are. They want me to kill you."

"Why?"

"We're the only ones here. They wanna turn us loose on each other to see what'll happen."

"Why do you think they want you to kill me? What if they want me to kill you?"

He laughed. "Think about that one, darlin'. You honestly believe you could kill me?"

"I don't know, you're getting a little slow. You're not as sharp as you used to be, old man."

"And you're not nearly as good as you think you are."

I smiled. "Oh, no, I'm _much_ better," I said. "So how are they going to get us to kill each other?"

"My guess? Gladiator style."

"Hey, if they want to bring Russell Crowe in here, that's fine by me. He's a good looking guy, not to mention Australian. I have a thing for Aussies, you know? The accents, the attitudes, the food. Man, I love kangaroo jerky. Do you remember when we were in Queensland last year and bought a bag of it? That stuff was _so_ good," I said, letting out a sigh. "I'm freakin' starving. And that's not an exaggeration this time, either."

"When we get outta here, I'll buy you a big cheeseburger and fries."

My mouth watered at the thought. "Sounds great. How do we get out?"

"They want one of us to kill the other one."

"Yeah, I kind of got that the _first_ time you said it," I said. "But you're not going to kill me, furry-face. I want my cheeseburger first."

"Fine, you can kill me."

"How? You said gladiator style, but how did they kill each other?"

"You should know. Didn't De Luca try proposing to you in a coliseum in Rome but you didn't ever hear 'em 'cause you were havin' visions of 'em fightin'?"

"Well…yeah."

"So you know how they fight, right?"

"Yeah, they either fought each other with like, swords and crap, or they fought off bears and tigers and shiz," I said. "No wolverines, sorry."

"Yeah, but they fought to the death, to entertain people, and what did they get in return?"

"The ones I say? They got to live," I said, understanding what he meant. "They're hoping I'll feel territorial and want you out of my space. But because you're an alpha male, they think you'll want to take control. And we'll fight each other over it until one of us dies. The winner gets to live. At least for a while, anyway."

"Right."

"So…wait, what does that have to do with us escaping? Maybe it's the lack of food and sleep getting to me, but I think I missed that part."

"Our cells were three hundred and fifty-six paces apart, in the middle there's the morgue and the exit."

"How do you know that? I mean, I get the paces thing, because it doesn't take a genius to count, but how do you know about the exit and the morgue? You had a _bag_ over your head."

"I know the smell of dead people, darlin'. And I could feel the cold comin' from under the door."

"And the exit?"

"There's a bar outside. I could hear music and smell beer and whiskey."

"That's probably why they're using this building to keep prisoners in. A lot of noise next door, it drowns out whatever sounds are being made over here."

"Maybe. Or it could be to celebrate when they get done. You never know about these people."

"Although I'm sure a lot of people could say that about you."

"And you think they think you go and mourn the people _you_ kill?"

"I don't celebrate my kills: I celebrate the fact that those freakin' disgusting scum bags aren't around to hurt, rape or kill anyone else ever again. I think that's a legitimate reason to celebrate _any_ hit that I make."

I sensed him smiling. "I never said it wasn't."

"Good. Now how are we going to get out?"

"They're expectin' one of us to kill the other tonight. They'll come in the mornin' to find out. They're gonna find me dead."

"Ignoring the 'how' part, what happens after that?"

"They'll take me to the morgue. I'll wake up there, kill all of 'em and then come get you."

"Yeah. I've got a better idea; why don't we just kill the S. when they come to check on us in the morning? It'll be quicker _and_ easier."

"'Cause you're too weak to do anything."

"Gee, I love you too, Logan."

"I'm serious, kid. You haven't been eatin', they've been beatin' you, and you haven't been sleepin'. You really think you could take anyone down without makin' a mistake."

"Do you think I can't?"

"Yeah."

"Screw you, old man. I can do it. I've felt worse with a cold."

He laughed. "You're delusional, darlin'."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically. "Do you want to hear my plan?"

"You actually have one?"

"Shut up. Yes I have a plan; why would I? You have one."

"Well if you had one, why didn't you use it before now?"

"Because I was doing recon work."

"Meanin'?"

"Meaning I was seeing how these guys work. I was o_bserving_. Which is what I do in my job, Mr. P E. Teacher."

"Call me a P. E. teacher one more time and you'll regret it."

"What are you going to do? Smack me?"

"Yeah, and not on your face," he said. "So what've you been observin', exactly?"

"These guys are young. Mid to late twenties. They're all American, west coast sounding. You were right about the entertainment part, though. That's what we're here for: To entertain them. But you were wrong about the gladiator thing. That's too old school for them. They're a bunch of bored, rich kids who are here in Brazil for summer vacation. I'd be surprised if they even know what the crap a gladiator _is_."

"Is that all?"

"No. They're stupid. They're doing stuff, but they don't know _why_ they're doing it. I'm sitting in a dark cell, but why? It's not sensory depravation because that's the only sense they're blocking out. There are no cameras or sound equipment in here. The only time they video tape is when they're actually in here _with_ me. They're a bunch of brats just coping crap they've seen in horror movies. They don't have effin clue what they're doing; they're doing it because they think they're supposed to."

"What kind'a crap horror movies are they makin' these days?"

"Crap ones, like you said. Those 'Saw' and 'Hostel' movies Tony made me watch were horrible, disgusting excuses for films and they were a lot like this," I said. "Except they had editing and creepy background music. And the lead characters still managed to somehow look sexy despite being covering in dirt and sweat and blood."

"Are you ever gonna get to the plan? Or are you just gonna keep talkin' about this stupid profilin' babble?"

"My plan is to take the sick mother effers down then they get here."

"Yeah, my plan's better."

I let out a sigh. "Fine, how am I supposed to kill you, then?"

All through the night we quietly discussed his plan. We went over it again and again until we both had it memorized perfectly. It wasn't foolproof by any means, but it was what we had so we went with it. And when the men came, we were ready.

They opened the cell door to find Logan dead on the floor. He had been strangled by the rope used to tie his hands. I hadn't enjoyed any part of strangling him. I hated it and had cried the whole time. But it was in the plan. So I went along.

I was huddled in the corner, covered in Logan's blood that he had cut himself open to get and made me smear all over myself, to look like he had put up a fight, injuring me in the process. Then I made him punch me in the nose to make it look more realistic. I was surprised when he agreed to it and even more surprised when he broke it.

The plan was going well until the men rolled Logan out of the way and came towards me instead.

Two of them grabbed me by my forearms while the third put a hood over my head. Then they pulled me out of the cell and pushed me down the hall.

They wanted a damsel in distress, so I gave it to them. I screamed, begged, cried. I did everything but fight back. Because up until that point, I had tried to seem as weak as possible. That was my wildcard and I had to play it wisely.

About a hundred paces away from my cell, I heard the music and smelled the beer from the bar Logan had been talking about. So I knew the morgue wasn't too far away.

My bare feet hit the cold metal floor of the morgue a few seconds later. But the smell of the dead bodies had hit my nose before then.

They dragged me through the room and then, abruptly, pushed me back into a chair. They strapped down my wrists and ankles before pulling off my hood.

The room was bright, the metal reflecting the lights, and my eyes took a couple of moments to adjust. When they finally did, I noticed the blood stains splattered all over the walls and floor.

I wasn't the first person they had brought there alive.

The moment the bag was off my head, I stopped the helpless act. It was annoying me and I couldn't think and whine at the same time.

"Am I in an old electric chair?" I asked, looking at the device I was sitting in.

The three men looked at me, surprised that I was suddenly so calm.

"Where would you even get one of these? I mean, e-bay doesn't list them, does it? I always thought it would be so cool to have one of these in my room. But my parents thought I was crazy," I said. "They were right; I am."

"Are you trying to scare us?" one of the men asked. He laughed. "It's not working. You can't do anything. You're tied to a chair. We're in control."

"I'm technically _strapped_ to the chair; not tied," I said. "But whatever."

"Shut up."

"Why? You didn't mind me talking before when you told me to beg for my life. Why do you want me to shut up now?"

"Because you're really getting on my freakin' nerves," he snapped.

"Well you're kind of annoying yourself. Do any of you have an original thought in your head? Or do you have to copy B-Rate horror movies to entertain yourselves?"

"We're not _copying_ anything!" the man yelled.

"Touchy," I said.

"Jason, shut up, she's just trying to piss you off," one of the other men hissed to him.

"Yeah, _Jason_," I said. "You know, I thought you weren't supposed to use your real name when you do stuff like this? Aren't you supposed to have code names, or something? Or is that just when you're robbing a bank? I forget."

"It doesn't matter if we use our real names or not. You're not going to live to tell anyone. No one else has," Jason said.

"Well done, Jason. _Very_ menacing. Now perhaps you should work on a maniacal laugh to go along with it," I said. "Are you going to make me watch videos of the people you've killed? Like in…oh, what movie was that…'Vacancy' or something? Good idea, but horrible movie."

"We're _not_ copying movies!" the other guy yelled.

"What's your name?" I asked. He didn't answer. "Fine, don't tell me. I'll just call you Bill. Is that okay?" No reply. "Good. So Bill, I think you _are_ copying movies. I mean, this really reeks of the whole 'Saw' and 'Hostel' franchises. I'm sorry but I tell you the truth because I care."

"Those were nothing like this! This is completely original!" Bill yelled at me. "Now shut up!"

"Sheesh, someone doesn't have any manners."

"We're going to kill you, you stupid whore! So _SHUT UP_!" the third guy screamed.

"You know, I'm going to call you Leroy, you kind of look like one," I said. "And if you're going to kill me anyway, why do I need to shut up? I might as well talk while I'm not dead."

"If you don't stop talking, I'm going to cut your tongue out," Jason said.

"Were you going to do that anyway?"

"Maybe," he said.

I let out a sigh. "Dude, you really suck at this. Seriously, you're not intimidating. If you were going for scary, you _should_ have watched 'Psycho'. That movie scared me half to death the first time I saw it. Norman Bates is like, _the_ creepiest movie villain. _Ever_."

"Are you going to stop talking?" Bill asked.

I let out another sigh. "Yeah, sure."

I was trying to buy some time. Logan would wake up soon, see I wasn't there, claw his way through the door and come looking for me. He would rush in, kill them all and save the day. I was going to be left looking like a little girl who couldn't take care of herself.

That wasn't too fun.

"You know what I do for a living?" I asked, quietly trying to wrangle my hand from one of the straps. Jason, Bill and Leroy were looking over various autopsy tools, obviously looking for one to torture me with and weren't paying attention to me.

"No and we don't care," Bill said.

"Well, believe it or not, I'm actually an assassin."

They all laughed. "Then why are you sitting here? Shouldn't you have killed us before we took you off the beach?" Leroy asked.

"If it were under real circumstances, sure. But I _let_ you take me off the beach on purpose. Aside from being an assassin, I'm also a mutant. I see things, they're called visions, and I saw all of you copy cat freaks killing a girl. So I put myself on that beach for you to take." I slid out my left hand from is restraints, freeing it.

"How else do you think you would have gotten that other guy, who just so happens to be my father, to come here? I mean really, do you honestly think you could have taken him so easily if he had actually tried to fight back? Dude, he totally would have like, killed you," I said. "Which he's going to do anyway."

"Too bad he's dead," Jason said. "You killed him, remember?"

"Yeah, you're right," I said. "I guess I'll just have to kill you myself, then." I started working on getting my right hand free. "But like I said; I kill people for a living, so you three bumbling idiots shouldn't be a problem. I mean, I'm no super ninja, but…well, neither are any of you, from the looks of it."

"How stupid do you think we are?" Jason asked.

"Well, considering I just called you all 'bumbling idiots', pretty stupid."

Leroy grabbed a scalpel of the instrument table. "Let's see how much you can talk without your tongue," he said, storming towards me.

"If you cut my tongue out, I can't scream," I lied. "And see how that's what you guys get off on, you'd kind of be screwing yourself over, wouldn't you? You want to play with me but I can't play with you? That doesn't seem fair."

He stopped in front of me and lowered his face down to mine. "Do you _really_ want to play with me?" he asked. I saw the door open quietly behind him and smiled. "What are you smiling about?"

"I have a question for you."

"And what's that?"

I stared him right in the eyes. "What are you scared of?"

He looked confused. "What?"

"What are you scared of?"

"Nothing."

"Wrong answer."

Logan burst into the room and popped his claws. The sound caused Leroy to turn around. While he was distracted I grabbed the scalpel from his hand and used to cut the strap off my right wrist, freeing it. I stood up from the chair, took Leroy by the neck, twisted it and broke it. He fell to the floor, dead.

The other two didn't even see me or what I had done. They were distracted by Logan and his claws. They turned and tried to run but they both tripped over the instrument table and fell down. They tried to get back up, but before they could, Logan was at their side. He took both sets of his claws and sliced straight through Bill and Jason. They fell to the ground in pieces, the nerves in their legs still causing them to twitch.

I walked over to where he was standing. "I hate serial killers. They're so arrogant," I said, throwing down the scalpel I still held in my hand. "Let's out of here. I want to go home."

My sight began to blur. Everything slid out of focus. And when everything aligned itself up, I was back in Tony's car.

Screaming.

"Jayden, it's okay. It's okay. Calm down, it was just a vision. You're all right, baby. I'm right here," Tony said.

I tried to stop screaming, but I couldn't. I could feel all the pain that my body had suffered in the vision. But more than anything, I was terrified of seeing the men die. Of seeing the man _I _killed. It stuck in my mind and I couldn't make it leave. I shut my eyes tight, but the images were still there.

Tony unbuckled himself then me, before pulling me to him. My screams were muffled by his shoulder and soon ebbed. It was then that I realized we hadn't even left the school's driveway.

"Get it out of my head, please. Just make it go away," I said.

"I can't. I'm so sorry, but I can't," he said. "You have to think of something else."

"I don't know what to think of. I don't know anything else. I just want to it out of my head."

"I don't know what to tell you, I'm sorry."

He kept holding me as I kept screaming until I felt my door open and I was being pulled out of the car. Before I could even see who it was, they had me pressed against their chest, cradling my head.

"It's all right, darlin', I got you," Logan said, stroking my hair.

"You saved me. You saved my life," I said. "They were going to kill me, but you saved me."

"Who was gonna kill you?"

"I don't know. Those men. There were three of them. We were in Brazil in a prison cell. They were serial killers. You punched me in the nose and broke it, but you saved my life," I said. I was caught between laughing and crying.

I didn't know _what_ to do.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about punchin' you; you told me to."

"I don't care; you saved my life," I said, clutching the back of his shirt. "Just don't let me go right now. Please don't let me go."

"I won't. I'm not gonna let you go, baby. I've got you," he said, holding me tight to his chest. He stroked my hair and kissed the side of my head. "You just gotta calm down and breathe. You hear me? You gotta breathe."

I listened to him and concentrated on my breaths until I finally got them regulated, matching Logan's breathing pattern. I pulled back to look up at him.

"How…how did you know I needed you?"

"I heard you screamin'."

"Inside?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know what happened to me."

"She had a vision," Tony said, getting out of the car and looking at us from over the top of it.

"Yeah, I figured De Luca."

"I don't understand. Why did it make me act like that? Why was I screaming? Why couldn't I breathe?"

"'Cause you're not used to your visions anymore," Logan said. "The more you get used to 'em, the easier it'll be when you have 'em. You'll stop screamin' and you won't lose your breath anymore."

"How can I get used to that? I saw you kill people. I saw _me_ kill people."

"I can't hear this," Tony said, shaking his head.

"Then stop listenin'," Logan said. "No one's makin' you stand out here. Get in your car and turn your radio on if you don't wanna hear us."

"I'm just saying cut the whole 'killing people' thing out. You know if I hear it I legally have to do something about it."

"Then arrest me," Logan said.

"Well, there's no evidence, so I can't."

"Then shut up," he said. "I'm talkin' to my daughter."

"The vision I had, do you remember it?" I asked him.

"Yeah."

"Why were we there? Why did we let them capture and torture us?"

"So we could do something about it before they hurt anymore else," he said. He looked at Tony. "Is that vague enough for you?"

"Yeah, that works for me."

"Were they really serial killers, though?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"How many people had they killed?"

"Seven."

"And they really video taped them all?"

"Are you talking about those three guys from Nevada that tortured those tourists in Brazil?" Tony asked.

I pulled completely away from Logan and looked at him. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"You were gone for nearly a week without telling me you were leaving, it was just right after we had gotten back from Rome, and you looked like you had gone a couple of rounds with Rocky and lost. You came back and the first thing you did was hand me a box full of video tapes. They were all of people being tortured and killed. The last tape was you being beaten," he said. "I never got those images out of my mind."

"Why did I give you the tapes? Those men were dead; you couldn't convict them."

"You wanted us to find out who the victims were so we could contact their families and let them know what had happened. I turned the tapes over to the FBI and they took care of it. I gave them all but yours. I burned that one."

"So that's my life? I'm some sort of…vigilante? I just go around killing people."

"Pretty much," Logan said.

"And no one's caught me?"

"Not where you're doing a hit. The government's hiring you to do them; who would arrest you?" Tony said.

"But what I saw wasn't a hit. Logan was there."

"We were working it as part of the team," Logan said.

"What team?"

"Chuck's team; the X-Men." Logan looked back over at Tony. "Are you not hearin' this either?"

"Nope, I didn't hear what you just said unless you're talking about a bowling team, or something."

Logan cocked his eyebrow at him. "Do I _look_ like I bowl?"

"No. You look like you smash bowling balls into people's heads, to be quite honest."

"I don't need a bowlin' ball to smash people's heads."

"I believe you. Don't worry; you don't have to convince me."

Logan looked at me. "What're you doin' out here anyway?"

"I called Tony and he said he would take me down to the station with him for a while so I could get out of the house. I thought it would be a good idea," I said. "I didn't realize I had visions during the day. I just thought they were at night for some reason."

"You usually _don't_ have 'em in the day. You got 'em under control. They're usually only at night. You can't stop those."

"So what happened? Why did I have one now?"

"You forgot how to control 'em."

"Okay, well, that's not going to work for me. I can't keep seeing this stuff or I will seriously go insane. So how do I get them back under control?"

"You need the Professor to help you with that," Logan said.

"What can he do?"

"He can teach you how to get 'em back under control."

"Do you think he'll mind helping me?"

"No."

I nodded. "Good. I'll have to ask him to help me do that."

"Now?"

"No. I think I need to get out of here right now. It's just…" I pointed to the mansion. "_That_ place is driving me insane. I remember it but…I _don't_ remember it. And I _know_ that doesn't make sense, but I can't help it. I don't know how else to explain it."

"It does make sense," Tony said. "And I think you do need to get out."

"No one's askin' your opinion, De Luca," Logan said.

"No, no one is asking my opinion but I thought I'd give it anyway. Jayden's your daughter but she's my step-sister, my ex-fiancé, and my friend, so I'm allowed to do that," Tony said. "And I'm not exactly stupid, I'm not going to suggest she do something if I think it's going to be bad for her."

Logan looked at me. "Don't go in my interrogation rooms."

"Why would I?"

"You won't," Tony said. He looked over at Logan. "She won't."

"Why not?" I asked. "Not that I want to, but why can't I?"

"You remember how yesterday when you touched the metal on your bathtub and you saw you tryin' to kill yourself?" Logan asked.

"Yeah."

"Whenever you go into an interrogation room, you do the same thing. But you don't see your memories, you see other people's."

"Whose?"

"The people we've arrested," Tony said. "You see what they've done. The first time I took you into one, you started seeing all of it. I didn't know you would react that way, so I didn't understand what was going on. Logan showed up about that time and pulled you out." He cocked his head to the side slightly. "Kind of like now."

"All right, so no interrogation rooms for me, then," I said. "But I think I should go. I think it would be good for me."

Logan pulled me to him and gave me a kiss on the forehead. Before I could protest he had me in a hug. "Fine. Just be careful, all right, baby?"

I nodded into his chest. 'Yeah, I will be.'

"You need me, you call me. It doesn't matter what I'm doin', if you need me to come get you, tell me and I'll be there."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Don't worry about it," he said, giving me another kiss on my forehead. "Take care of her Tony."

"I will," he said, climbing back into his car.

I pulled away from Logan and gave him a smile as Tony turned on his car radio. It was some type of jazz music.

"I'm sorry about earlier," I said.

"Yeah, me too."

"I shouldn't have said all that stuff to you, so I'm sorry."

He titled my chin up to look up at him and gave me a wing. "I told you; don't worry about it," he said with a small smirk.

"Thanks," I said, giving him a smile. "I'll see you when I get back."

I gave him a small wave as I climbed into Tony's car. My relationship with Logan was unique to say the very least and I had a _lot_ to learn if I was ever going to figure us out.


	7. Finding Out

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. I did however see the Wolverine poster today and think it's awesome! Enjoy this chapter.

* * *

I spent nearly five hours with Tony and the rest of the detectives at the station where he worked for the NYPD. I ate lunch with them and they entertained me with embarrassing stories of Tony. None of them acted awkward around me just because I couldn't remember them or what they were actually talking about. They were all very polite, especially Tony's partner Dave O'Reily, and offered to get me whatever I wanted. They even knew how I took my coffee and got me a cup whenever I asked if I could have some.

For New York cops, they all seemed quite nice.

When Tony got off work, he took me out for dinner. To him I was old hate, but to me, he was completely new. And there was so much I wanted to know about him.

"You know when I saw all that stuff in the car earlier? Before we left the school?" I asked.

"Yeah. What about it?"

We were sitting in an Italian restaurant late that afternoon, waiting on our food to be brought to us. Tony had informed me that it was one of my favorite places to eat, despite the fact that the food wasn't 'authentic Italian cuisine'. It was, in his words, 'Like someone from Mexico going to Taco Bell'. But since I didn't know fake Italian food from the real stuff, I didn't care.

"Well, I saw myself talking to Logan. He said you proposed to me in a coliseum in Rome, or something. I was just wondering if that was true or not?"

He smiled, showing off his gorgeous straight, white teeth. "Yeah, it is true actually," he said. "It didn't quite work out the way I thought it would."

"What happened?"

"Well, we were in Rome with my dad and Terry, she's your mom. They went to the hotel for a nap before dinner, because dinner in Italy lasts about six hours. So you and I decided to go see the coliseums. Tourists are only supposed to see the top part, where the audiences sat, the rest is off limits. But I paid a guard to let us in the stadium. When we got to the center, I dropped down on one knee, pulled out the ring and asked you to marry me."

"What did I say?"

"You _didn't_, actually," he said. "You started crying. I thought it was out of happiness until I looked up and saw your face. You were horrified and I was very confused. I figured out what was wrong when you fell to your knees, grabbed your head and started screaming."

I laughed. "I'm sorry, but that's…that's funny," I said.

"It is now, it wasn't at the time. If I hadn't known you as well as I did, it probably would have been a bit insulting then," he said, laughing along with me.

"Well I would think you probably wouldn't be proposing if you didn't know me that well."

He gave me another smile. "Actually, I wanted to propose to you when we first met, but my brother reminded me that I wasn't that kind of guy."

"You have a very sensible brother."

"Unfortunately. If I haven't proposed to you then, maybe we'd be married now."

"Maybe things worked out for the best."

"Yeah," he said. "Maybe."

"So how did you finally get me to say yes, then?"

"I proposed to you again that night. We were at the hotel, in our room. We were sitting on the balcony because we could see the whole city of Rome. It was all lit up and beautiful. And I looked over at you and you looked so…"

"Disgusting?"

"Yes," he said jokingly with a smile. "You looked horribly disfigured, it was gross; I almost threw up."

I laughed. "I bet."

"No, you looked beautiful. You looked _happy_, which is always good, I think."

"Usually, I think so."

"You always looked your most beautiful when you were happy. And I wanted to…" He paused for a second, trying to think of what he wanted to say. "_I_ wanted to be the reason you were happy. I wanted to make you as happy as you looked like you felt that night, all the time."

"What happened between us?"

"Something happened that made you very _unhappy_. And there was nothing I could do to fix it," he said. "I lost you for a few months and when you came back, you weren't the same."

"What do you mean you lost me? Where was I?"

"You didn't _go_ anyway, you were still here, but you weren't the same. It was like someone else took over your body." He smiled slightly. "Kind of like 'The Stepford Wives', only not a nineteen-fifties fembot."

I laughed. "Was I so bad?"

His smile fell. "You weren't bad, just depressed. Like I said; there was nothing I could do about it. The only person you would let in was Logan. You shut everyone else out."

"And when I let you back in, I broke up with you?"

"No, you tried, you really did, but it just didn't work. We both knew too much and we had both said _way_ too much. We had a habit of hurting each other."

"Well, I don't remember what you've done to me, but I apologize for anything I may have done to hurt you," I said. "Maybe that's why I've forgotten everything; so I can see all the mistakes I've made and ask forgiveness for the."

His smile came back. "So this new Jayden believes in fate?"

I looked at him confused. "Didn't I before?"

"No, not really. You believed in karma, you know? Like, what goes around comes around? And you believed that _some_ things happened for a reason. But not fate."

"Why not?"

"You said that when you see things, your visions, the events can be changed or stopped by one detail being changed. If it was possible to change it, it wouldn't be fate, right?"

I thought for a moment. "But what if what happens is _destined_ to happen and what I see is just a prompt to fate?"

He shrugged. "Because I don't think about stuff like that."

"What do you think about then?"

"How awesome life would be if Cap'N Crunch didn't shred the roof of your mouth."

I laughed. "Wow. You're just the second coming of Aristotle, aren't you?" I joked.

He smiled at me again. "Yeah, that's what they tell me. Between that and my body built like a Greek god, you really let a catch slip out of your hands, didn't you?"

"You know, the more time I spend with you, the more I'm starting to figure that out," I said. "What in the world was I thinking?"

"I've asked you that quite a few times."

"And what have I said?"

"That I was just way too cool for you," he said, giving me another smile and shrug. "But at least you're being honest. That's the first step to recovery. I'm very proud of you, Miss Rivers."

"You're a dork, you know that, right?"

"I am _the_ coolest person you will ever meet."

"That says very sad things about my social circle, then."

He smiled. "Yes it does."

"You know, you're actually kind of attractive when you're not being too cocky," I said. "_Mr. De Luca_."

His smile widened. "Thank you."

"So why are you hanging out with me? Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why not? You're cute, charming, kind of funny. What's the problem?"

"I haven't found anyone that shares my Cap'N Crunch philosophy on life."

"Did I?"

"No, you're more of a Count Chocula kind of girl."

"Was that a problem for you?"

"Yes, it's why we broke up," he joked. "If you had been into Trix I never would have even dated you. Because those bratty kids really need to stop taking that stupid rabbit's cereal away. Even if it does suck."

"What's wrong with Trix? Why do you think it sucks?"

"Because it's fruit flavored cereal. It's like Fruity Pebbles; it's gross. Who wants to eat that crap?"

I laughed. "I didn't realize you took your breakfast so seriously," I said. "I'm sorry I even asked.

He just smiled and gave me a win. We didn't talk again until our food arrived.

"Can I ask you a question?" I asked, cutting into a piece of my chicken.

"Yeah," he said, his mouth full of breadstick.

"How do you deal with you job? Doesn't it ever make you feel like you're going to go crazy if you have to deal with anymore psychopaths?"

He shrugged. "I deal with it like everything else; pretend it doesn't really happen."

"You can't do that all the time, though."

"That's when you put on a Steve McQueen movie and eat junk food."

I smiled slightly. "How do _I _deal with it?"

"With my job?"

My smiled grew. "No, with _my_ job."

"You confess."

"So I'm Catholic?"

"No. You're not really religious."

"Then who do I confess to if it's not a priest?"

"Logan."

"Why do I confess to him? He already knows everything I do. Why go through the trouble of talking about it?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. I never asked."

"Why not?"

"I didn't think it was any of my business."

"I was your _fiancé_; of course it was your business."

He smiled. "And if you had had that attitude while we were engaged, things would have been _very_ different," he said. "No, you dealt with your job in your own way and I dealt with my job in mine. You never told me I needed to open up and talk to someone, and I never told you to stop being so serious. We both know _why_ we were doing it, we didn't have to ask."

I nodded. "That or maybe we were both too scared to ever actually _talk_ to each other."

He smiled. "Yeah, that was probably it, actually," he said. "I did always have a problem with talking to beautiful women."

I smiled back and felt myself blush. "You really are charming, Tony. I'm very impressed by you."

He gave me a wink. "Ditto."

I sat there that afternoon conflicted. While I had been scrambling to put together as many pieces of my memory as possible, I had discovered something: I had some incredibly amazing men in my life. And Scott and Tony were two of them. But the problem was, the more time I spent with them, the stronger my feelings became for them.

Tony had told me that I was in love with him and Logan told me that I wasn't. But being with him, feeling his warmth radiating off him, I believed it was possible that I _did_ still feel that way. That even after breaking up two years before, I _did_ still love him.

But then there was Scott. Who I had supposedly been in love with since meeting him when I was eighteen. I knew I was still in love with him because I felt it. He put me at ease and made me feel comfortable. And when we had kissed, it was like I had been asleep all my life and was finally awake.

Was it possible to be in love with two people at the same time?

* * *

It was a little after seven that evening when Tony took me home. He walked me to the door and gave me a kiss on my cheek. But my face was at an odd angle and the corner of his mouth kissed mine. I knew I should have pulled away, but I didn't. Instead, I moved my lips in line with his.

"Jayden."

"What?"

"I don't think we should be doing this," he whispered against my lips.

"Why not?"

"Because…well, I don't know why, we just probably shouldn't."

I looked into his eyes, something I couldn't do with Scott, and saw him looking into mine. I put my hand up to his face. "I want you to. I need to remember what it feels like."

"And I'm still trying to forget," he said. He ran his hand back over my hair and then ran his fingers through it.

"Do you still love me?"

"Would it make this easier if I lied?"

I shook my head slightly. "No, it wouldn't."

"Then yeah, I _do_ still love you."

"So what's the problem?"

He took a deep breath and moved his mouth away from mine. He kissed my forehead and pulled me into a hug. "The promise _is_ that I still love you," he said. "And I told you earlier that it's easier for me to pretend that it's not really happening if I can't handle what's going on. So I'm going to tell you goodbye, get in my car and leave. You're going to go inside and be with you family. Then I'll call you tomorrow and everything will be all right. Okay?"

I nodded my head against his shoulder. "Okay."

He let go of me, looked down and gave me a forced smile. "Bye Jayden."

"Bye Tony."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay."

He gave me another forced smile before turning and walking back down the steps of the mansion. I watched him for a few seconds before going inside.

My life seemed to be confusing enough without having to add amnesia to it. What had I done to make it that bad?

I walked upstairs to my room and when I got there, I noticed a note on my bed. I opened it immediately.

'_Logan said you went with Tony down to the station. He also said you had a pretty bad vision before you left. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you with it. If you want to talk to me before you go to bed, my room is three doors down to the left and across the hall from yours. I'll be up late getting my lessons ready for school next week. If not, I'll see you in the morning at breakfast._

_Scott_'

I smiled and folded the note back up. I did want to see him, but I wanted to change first. I got out of my clothes, put on a pair of pajamas and pulled my hair up into a ponytail before going over to his room. I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I waited a few seconds then knocked again.

"Yeah, it's open, come on it!" I heard Scott yell.

I opened the door and let myself in. "Scott?"

"In the bathroom."

I walked to the bathroom and stood in the doorway. Scott was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Lily was in it, taking a bubble bath and playing with three mermaid Barbie dolls. Their hair looked like she had cut and probably dyed it herself.

"Hey Aunt Jayden," she said, making a doll dive under the water.

"Hey. Did you have fun at your friend's house?" I asked.

"Yep."

I smiled. "Good."

"Did you have fun with Uncle Tony?"

"Yeah, I did."

"What did you do?" she asked, knocking her other two Barbies into the water with a splash.

"Careful baby, try not to splash," Scott said.

"I went to work with him and then he took me out to eat," I said. "What did you do at your friend's house?"

"We just played."

"Tell her _what_ you played," Scott said, a hint of a smile on his face.

Lily looked up at me. "We played superheroes. She didn't want to, but I didn't want to play with her dolls."

"How do you play superheroes?"

"You just save people and stuff. Like what daddy does."

"But you weren't acting like daddy today, were you?" Scott said. She shook her head. "Who were you acting like?"

"Uncle Logan."

"And how do you play like Uncle Logan?" I asked.

She shrugged and didn't say anything. Scott looked up at me. "She took six butter knives from the silverware drawer and put three between the fingers on both hands. Gabriella's mother said she was growling and calling her 'bub'."

I laughed. "Wow."

He nodded. "Yeah, she's not allowed over there anymore."

"Gabriella doesn't like playing what I like so I don't care," Lily said, making two of the mermaids fight.

Scott shook his head. "Do you think you can be a big girl for a few minutes and stay in here by yourself while I go in the other room and talk to Aunt Jayden?" Scott asked her.

"Yep."

"Good. Don't splash and I'll be back in a little bit to wash your hair."

"I don't _want_ to wash it. You always get water in my eyes."

"I'm sorry but you have to wash it. It's dirty. You have banana and peanut butter in it."

"How did she get banana and peanut butter in her hair?" I asked.

He stood up. "Your guess is as good as mine," he said, walking towards me. "Let's go in here so we can talk."

I left the doorway and walked across the room. I stood by his dressed. He exited the bathroom after me and pull the door almost closed behind him, leaving it open only a couple of inches. Then he crossed the room and stood in front of me.

And then he kissed me.

It wasn't a long, passionate, romantic kiss. It was short and sweet and full of concern. He put his hand up to my cheek and caressed it.

"Logan said you had a really bad vision earlier. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quiet.

I nodded and leaned into his touch. "Yeah, I am now."

"What happened?"

"I saw Logan and me in Brazil. There were three men holding us hostage there or something. They were going to kill me, but Logan and I killed them, instead."

"I remember that mission. I tried talking you out of it, but you wouldn't let me. So I sent Logan with you instead."

"When I saw us kill those men, I freaked out. When I came out of it, or whatever, I was screaming. Tony tried to get me to calm down, but I couldn't. Then Logan came running outside and pulled me out of the car. He finally got me to calm down."

"I'm really sorry I wasn't here for you. I wish I could have been."

"You had to save the world," I said with a small smile. "I understand."

He smiled back. "I'm still sorry."

"Well, I forgive you."

He gave me another kiss and wrapped his arms around me, pulling my body to his. "I promise I'll be there next time, okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"_We can't go on together with suspicious minds. We can't build our dreams together, with suspicious miiinds_!" Lily sang loudly from the bathroom.

"What is she singing?" I asked.

"Elvis. I don't think she understands the song, but after she saw 'Lilo and Stitch' she's been obsessed with Elvis. You bought her one of his CDs for Christmas," he said. "But you probably don't remember that movie, so never mind."

"It's about a little girl who lives in Hawaii and adopts an alien thinking it's a dog, right?"

He gave me a look. "You remember 'Lilo and Stitch' but you don't remember me?" He smiled. "Maybe you were right about Disney after all: Maybe they _do_ brainwash people. Even amnesia can't make you forget their movies."

"Too bad they didn't make a movie about my life, eh?"

"Don't worry about it. You'll remember it all soon enough. Just give yourself time to heal."

"Healing isn't the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Hank did a CT scan on me earlier, just after you left on your mission, or whatever. He said there's no damage to my brain."

He looked confused. "So why can't you remember?" he asked, his voice still quiet.

"He said something traumatizing may have happened and my brain shut down my memory as a defense mechanism."

"But you don't believe that?"

"I do but Logan does. He said he didn't know of anything that could have traumatized me and he was pretty adamant about the face that I tell him everything." I put my hands up to his shoulders and rested them there. "I don't know what to do now. If he doesn't know what made my brain do this, how am I going to?"

"You'll figure it out. I know you will."

"How can you be so sure?"

He smiled at me. "Because you can be resourceful when you need to be, Rivers. Give yourself a few days to rest and get used to everything again. _Then_ we'll start working on why you lost your memory, okay?" he said. "I'm going to help you. I promise."

"Thank you."

He kissed me sweetly on my forehead. "Just rest."

"Daddy!" Lily yelled.

"Yeah baby?" he called back.

"Can me and Aunt Jayden make cookies tomorrow?"

"No sweetheart."

"Why not?"

"Yeah, why not?" I asked.

He laughed. "Because you can't bake cookies. Not unless they're pre-made. And you usually burn those."

"I can't be _that_ bad."

He smiled at me again. "I'm sorry, but yes; you are."

"Daddy why can't she?" Lily asked again.

"Because she can't bake cookies; you know that."

"Well," she said. "I thought maybe since she forgot everything else, she might know how to do other stuff. Like make cookies."

"I don't think it works like that," he said to her.

"Who does she usually make cookies with?" I asked.

"Hank."

"Hey Lily, I've got an idea," I called to her.

"What?"

"How about tomorrow, if Uncle Hank's not busy, we get him to teach me how to make some?"

"He's already tried. You can't learn."

Scott and I both laughed. "Out of the mouths of babes, eh?" I said.

"I'm ready to get my hair washed now, daddy."

"Okay." He looked down at me. "Do you mind?"

"No, go ahead."

"Do you want to wait here?"

"No, I think I'm just going to go to my room. If that's okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, go on. I'll see you in the morning at breakfast."

He leaned in to give me another kiss, but I put my finger to his lips, stopping him. "Actually I was wondering if after Lily went to sleep, if you could come over to my room? I really need to talk to you and I know now's not a good time."

His brow knitted together. "Should I be concerned?" he asked around my finger.

"No, I don't think so," I said, moving my hand from his mouth.

"I'll sneak out after I put her to bed. Can you stay up until then?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

He leaned down and finally gave me another kiss. "I'll see you in a little while."

I pulled away from him reluctantly. "Goodnight Lily," I called to her.

"Goodnight Aunt Jayden!" she yelled.

I gave Scott a smile before turning and leaving his room. I walked back down the hall to mine. But I didn't open the door. I just stood in front of it and pressed my forehead against it. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

It didn't matter that I couldn't remember Scott, my heart overrode my brain. I couldn't deny the fact that I had feelings for him. But I didn't understand them. I had woken up with all of these intense feelings for a complete stranger. And none of it made sense.

"Forget how to open a door?" I looked up, startled by the voice, and saw Logan standing beside me.

"Freakin' A, man. Where the heck did you come from? You scared the crap out of me," I said.

"I came from my room."

"What are you? A freakin' ninja or something? I didn't even hear you."

He ignored me. "What're you doin'?" he asked.

"I'm thinking."

"You look like you're makin' out with the door," he said. "What're you thinkin' about?"

"Everything." I let out a sigh. "Do I always do this?" I asked. "I mean, do I always over analyze things?"

"Only the stuff you shouldn't."

"Why do I do that? Why do I over think everything?"

He shrugged. "You didn't get it from me; I don't know why you do it."

"Well it's really annoying. Ever since I woke up yesterday, my brain has been obsessively thinking about what I don't remember. It's like I can't stop myself."

"Usually it's obsessively thinkin' and you're obsessively tellin' me what it's thinkin'. At least you're keepin' it to yourself this time."

"I gave him a small smile. "I could tell you what I'm thinking if that would make you feel better."

"It's wouldn't," he said. "But tell me anyway."

I turned around and pressed my back to the door. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at him. "Do you think…do you think it's possible…"

"Do I think _what's_ possible?"

I let out a sigh. "To be in love with two people at the same time?"

"In your room. Now," he ordered. I didn't think; I just did as he said and moved to open my door. He followed in right after me and closed the door behind him. "Who are you in love with?"

"I'm not real sure."

"You don't remember anyone."

"Yeah, I know."

"So why are you askin' me if you can be in love with two people at the same time?"

"Because I think I am. Or I was, before I forgot everything. Before yesterday. I think...I might be in love with Tony _and_ Scott."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because of the way I feel when I'm with them."

"That's not love, kid; that's hormones."

"It's not that," I said. He gave me a look. "Okay, maybe some of it is that, but not all of it. I can tell the difference."

"Can you?"

"Yeah," I said. "I think."

"Well 'I think' ain't gonna cut it."

"How do _you_ know the difference between love and hormones, then?"

"I'm a man; there isn't a difference."

"So men are never in love? They just do whatever they have to do to get laid?"

"Most of 'em, yeah."

"But not _all_ of them?"

"No, there are a few decent guys out there. You just don't know any of 'em."

"Tony and Scott are both good men."

"No, they only act like they are."

I shook my head. "No, I can feel it. Yes, they both may have done things to hurt me before, but I'm not exactly an innocent party in all of this. Anytime two adults have a relationship with each other, one of them is bound to get hurt, right? That's life," I said. "But they've both apologized to me since yesterday, and I know they've apologized to me before that. So what makes them bad?"

"I don't like 'em."

"From what I've gathered, you don't like most people. You told me why you didn't like Scott earlier. He hurt me and I'm your daughter. I respect that. But why Tony? Why don't you like him?"

"Reasons you don't need to know right now."

"Why?"

"Just stay away from both of 'em 'til you can remember everything again. You hear me?"

"Why?"

"'Cause I said so."

I shook my head. "That's not going to work this time. I need to know why."

He walked over and stood right in front of me. "You're smart, you're a good kid and you're good at what you do. But sometimes you can do some stupid crap without thinkin' and get yourself in a whole world of hurt. So 'til you get your memory back, I _want_ you to keep over thinkin'. About _everything_," he said. "'Cause if Hank's right and something happened to make you lose your memory, then you can't afford to get hurt anymore, can you?"

I shook my head. "No, I guess not."

"Then you tell me you won't do anything stupid 'til you can get your memory back."

"I'll _try_, okay?"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you'll try."

I looked up and met his gaze. "Logan, I _promise_ that I will try my hardest not to do anything stupid," I said. "I want to be back to normal; I don't want anything to screw up that chance."

The corners of his mouth turned up in a small smirk. "I don't know if I'd ever call you 'normal', darlin'."

I gave him a smile and went to my bed to sit down. "You still didn't answer my question," I said, pulling my legs to my chest. I rested my chin on my knees and wrapped my arms around them.

He raised his eyebrow at me. "Which one?"

"Do you think it's possible to be in love with two people at the same time?"

He came and sat down on the bed beside me. "I don't know."

"Aren't old people supposed to have all of life's answers and be full of wisdom?"

"We're full of something," he said and I smiled. "No one has it all figured out, no one has all the answers."

We sat there quietly for a few minutes. I liked having him beside me, so I sat there, absorbing his presence and listening to our breaths going in and out. Finally I looked over at him and broke out silence.

"I'm scared," I whispered.

He looked down at me and his expression was the softest I'd ever seen. "I know you are, baby."

"I don't know what to do to stop being scared."

He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him. I buried my face in his chest and he kissed the top of my head. "Let me handle it. Don't worry about any of it. I'll take care of you."

"But what if I don't ever remember?"

"When you don't remember your past, all you have is now."

I thought for a second. "You've told me that before, haven't you?"

"Yeah," he said. "And it's still the truth."

"So if I can't remember, I just have to start all over?"

"That's all you can do."

"Were you scared when you couldn't remember who you were?"

"Everyday," he said. "There's nothing wrong with bein' scared. It's what you do with the fear."

"What do I do with mine?"

"You use it as motivation to figure out what went wrong."

"And if I can't?"

"Then you gotta know when to let it go and pay attention to what you do remember."

"Like you?"

I could feel him smile. "Yeah, kind'a."

I held onto him tightly and breathed him in. He smelled like cigar smoke, cologne and lasagna. As he held me to him, something in my mind clicked. Memories of him holding me just like that flooded my head. They weren't clear, they were foggy, but they were there and I remembered them.

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

"A few times, yeah."

"I remember it," I said. "I remember you."

"Good."

That was all he said. For the next thirty minutes, he just held me. And nothing in the past two days had felt better.

* * *

At around fifteen 'til ten there was a knock on my door. I knew who it was before I even called for them to come in. So when Scott came walking into my room in his pajamas, I wasn't surprised to see him.

"Sorry it took so long. I couldn't get her to go to sleep," he said. "I hope I didn't make you stay up."

"No, I've just been watching TV."

He sat down at the top of my bed beside me where I was sitting, pressing his back against the headboard. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

I looked at him and took a deep breath. "Today's been really difficult for me."

"I know," he said, grabbing one of my hands and holding it in one of his.

"I've gotten some of my memories back, a lot of them were about you, and the ones that were about you were definitely good memories. _Very_ good ones."

"But?"

I took another breath. "But…I think I may have let those memories, some of the only ones I _have_, and my hormones get carried away earlier today when we were in your car. I'm not saying I didn't want to kiss you, because I did and I still do. I mean, like right now I want to," I said with a smile. He laughed. "But, as much as I hate it, I think right now, until I get my memory back, I need to step back away from this."

"Did I do something?"

"No. And I mean that honestly. You've done absolutely nothing wrong and everything right. But I just think that if…if something happened to me to make me forget, I need to concentrate on figuring out what it was. I'm afraid that I'll be too distracted," I lied. I gave him another smile. "You _are_ very distracting, Scott. And normally I don't think I would mind that. But unfortunately, none of this fits into a 'normal' category."

"You don't have to explain it to me, Jayden. I understand," he said, squeezing my hand lightly.

"So can you still wait for me?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can definitely wait on you."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't ask for any of this. It's not your fault."

"No, but it feels like it is. Everything in my life is so incredibly organized; I'm surprised I didn't write myself instructions on what to do if I ever _did_ lose my memory."

"That's obsessive; not organized."

"I color code my closet, Scott. I'd say I _am_ obsessive."

"You get that from Logan."

"Didn't I ever keep a journal, or something? Anything to keep track of my thoughts or what I was doing?"

"No."

"Why not? Most girls keep journals or diaries don't they?"

"I guess. But you're not like most girls," he said. I cocked my eyebrow at him and gave him a look. He smiled. "I do mean that in the nicest way possible."

"Do you know why I never kept one? Aside from the fact that I'm not normal."

"Hey, I didn't say that," he said, still smiling. "But yes; I do know why." He still held my hand in his and gave it another squeeze. "When you lived with your parents, you put on a show for them. You were a very different person than who you are now."

"Who was I?"

"Whoever you thought they wanted you to be. The good daughter. You did whatever they asked without hesitation."

"Why?"

"Because you were afraid they would give you back to the orphanage if you didn't," he said. "So you were exactly what they wanted you to be. You never kept a journal because you knew you could never write what you really thought or your mother would read it. And just keeping one to write what you thought they would want to read was too exhausting to you."

"So how was I when you met me? What was I like?"

He smiled. "Well, you looked just like Logan, so that threw me off. But you had something he didn't have."

"Social skills?"

He laughed. "Yeah, that was one of them. But you were just very warm and inviting. There was something about you that I liked immediately."

"You weren't attracted to me then?"

"You were eighteen."

"I didn't ask how old I was. I know I was eighteen when we met."

"Yes, I was attracted to you when I first met you. Even though you were eighteen."

"Which is legal, so what's the problem."

"I was thirty-four."

"What thirty-four year old guy _wouldn't_ be attracted to an eighteen year old girl?"

"One with decency."

"You're decent."

"You can say that now because you're eight years older. It's not as inappropriate anymore. Or creepy."

"You're not creepy _or_ inappropriate, okay? At least not to me."

"Thanks."

"Was I immediately attracted to you?"

"Yeah, you were. But you called it a crush for a long time before you admitted you were in love with me. Both of us wanted to believe it was just a crush."

"Why?"

He let out a sigh. "You were afraid if it was anything more, I would find out and it would affect our relationship. Even though we were attracted to each other, we were good friends and you didn't want to ruin that."

"Did I?"

"No, not really," he said. "I mean, you _thought_ you did, but that was because I was stupid and told you that I didn't feel the same way as you, when really I did."

"Why did you tell me that, then?"

"I just told you; I was stupid. If you don't know it now, you'll remember it soon; men are morons. We're all complete idiots and rather than just say what we actually think and feel, we'll do anything and everything to push you away to get you to leave us alone so we don't have to face reality. We're immature."

"What was the reality you didn't want to face, exactly?"

"That I felt the same way as you. I was desperate to hold onto Jean even though she had been gone for…a year and a half, I guess. Admitting how I felt about you meant I had to be willing to accept Jean's death. I didn't want to do that."

"But you did."

He nodded. "Yeah, eventually. But it didn't matter, because as soon as I did, Jean came back. And I just hurt you all over again, even though I didn't mean to that time, but I hurt you all the same."

"Why is it so hard for grownups to just be honest with each other? Why do we feel the need to keep secrets?"

"To protect ourselves. If we don't let other people know how we really feel, we can't get hurt when they try to use it against us."

"Not everyone's like that, are they?"

He shook his head. "No, just the ones of us who've been hurt that way before."

"I was hurt by my parents, right? And my real mother? That's why I keep everything to myself." He nodded. "So what happened to you?"

"When I was thirteen, my parents and brother died. My dad was a pilot and we were in a private plane on our way to California for vacation when one of the engines went out. It short circuited and caught fire. The plane was small, so it didn't take long before it caught fire, too. There were only two parachutes, so my parents gave them to my brother and me. He was younger, so they told me to watch out for him. But when we jumped, my chute was the only one that worked. My brother landed about three miles away from me and died."

"I'm so sorry."

"The thing is…the night before we left, I tried sneaking out of the house. There was this girl I went to school with that I liked and wanted to see her before we left. Alex, my brother, caught me and told our parents. I was so mad; I told them all that I hated them. I didn't get a chance to apologize to any of them before they died."

"I'm sure they knew you didn't mean it."

"I know that now, because I know that no matter what Lily says to me, there's nothing that would stop me from loving her," he said. "But when I was younger, I didn't understand that. I pushed everything away because I felt like I needed to grow up faster and showing emotion was weak. When the Professor brought me here, I wasn't exactly a well behaved kid. I was angry. He helped me work through that. But aside from him, Jean, Ororo and Hank were the only people I let in."

"So we are a lot alike."

"Showing emotion was weak. If we couldn't control ourselves and how people saw us, then we were doing something wrong."

"But not anymore."

He shook his head. "No, not anymore."

"But we still keep secrets from people?"

"Whether to protect ourselves or other people, yeah, we do."

I took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Things are never easy, are they? Even when you remember your life."

He gave me a short smile. "I would think that life would be easier if you _couldn't_ remember it. That way you get a clean slate, to start all over again."

"But I'm not getting to start all over. It's like I walked into a movie halfway through it. I don't know the characters. I don't know the plot. I don't know anything about it. And I'm being forced to try to figure out where it's going."

His smiled returned. "Is the movie good so far?"

"I don't know. I'm just getting to know the characters right now."

He gave my hand a final squeeze before letting it go and giving me another smile. "I guess I better let you go to bed. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Goodnight, Jayden," he said before standing up from my bed.

"Goodnight, Scott."

He bent down and kissed my cheek. "If you can wait on me, I promise I'll always wait on you, okay?" he whispered.

I nodded. "Okay."

"Goodnight," he said again, then stood back up. He gave me another smile then I watched as he left my room.

As he closed the door, a quote I wasn't sure how I knew, came into my mind: '_Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering._' I didn't know who said it, but they must have known what I was going through. Whoever they were.

* * *

Time went by incredibly slow. Every day seemed to take forever to get through. I had recovered some of my memories, mostly of when I was younger, but nothing that helped me to understand why I had lost my memory in the first place. I remembered mostly everyone at the school, and the ones I didn't, I had gotten to know again.

After a month and a half of struggling to remember, I had given up and taken Logan's advice; I let go and just paid attention to the things I _did_ remember. It was hard to give up being in control, because it was so instinctive for me to want to be, but it was the only choice I had. So I did my best.

I got out of bed late on Valentine's Day. I had stayed up until four in the morning the night before watching a special on the invasion of Normandy with Logan. He had told me that he had been a solider in one of the Canadian troops that stormed the beach and I wanted to see what it was all about. I was fascinated by the thought that he had actually been part of something so historic. Then I fell asleep with my head in his lap and carried me to bed. I didn't wake up until ten o'clock the next day.

As soon as I got out of the bed, I got in the shower. I washed off, got out, dried my hair and got dressed.

The more I remembered of the school, the more comfortable I felt in it. Which meant I didn't feel the need to always dress nicely. Some days I just wanted to be comfortable. Which explained why I got dressed in a pair of loose, cut off blue jean shots, a plaid flannel shirt than had been Logan's, and house shoes.

Once I was dressed, I made my way down to the kitchen. Breakfast was over and classes were in session, so I was left to fend for myself. A few days after my accident in Mexico, I had learned that what everyone had said was true: I couldn't cook. At all. So if I wanted to eat, I had limited choices: Pre-made breakfast food, a sandwich, or cereal. I decided to go with a bowl of Count Chocula.

Once I was done, I washed my bowl and spoon before putting them back up. Then I went to find someone to entertain me. I wandered around the school, going from one call room to the next until I was in the back of Ororo's classroom. She wasn't there; she had gone to a charity event with the Professor, so Logan was subbing for her.

He was meant to be teaching about St. Valentine since it was his holiday, or whatever. But he was obviously inspired by the history special we had watched the night before because instead of talking about love and saints, he was giving a lesson on D-Day. He was teaching some from a book, but mostly he was ignoring it and just talking about what he remembered about it personally.

I thought he was being a bit too graphic when he talked about stabbing people with bayonets and blowing their heads off with a gun at close range. But they all seemed to be responding well.

Once class was over, I stayed in my seat at the back of the room.

"You look like a hobo, kid," Logan said, straightening up the desks.

"Nice to see you, too," I said with a smile. "What happened to your lesson on St. Valentine? I thought Storm had it all planned out for you?"

"It was crap. I scrapped it."

"How is she going to feel about that?"

"Don't know and I don't care."

"Well, I'm sure you're lesson was far more interesting. Except to the girls who were probably looking forward to hearing about all that romantic stuff. They were probably the same ones who nearly gagged when you were talking about 'the bowels of the dead are loosened'. I could be wrong about that one, though."

"Well life ain't just about romantic crap. They need to know more than that."

"I agree. But I'm not sure if they need to know all the details. These kids aren't going to grow up and become murderers."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "How do you know that?"

"Well, I don't really."

"They need to know that death's not like what they see on TV and those stupid video games. It's messy and it's not fun."

"Are you saying you've never enjoyed killing someone before?"

He gave me a small smirk. "Maybe," he said. "But these kids need to know the reality."

"I think you definitely got that through to them," I said. "And your description of brains looking slightly like raw sausage _really_ made me crave some. Is that gross?"

"Yes."

"So when's your next class?"

"Ten minutes. Then it's the last one and I get to find some beer and turn on the hockey game."

I looked up at the clock hanging on the wall. "It's not even eleven o'clock, how is that going to be your last lesson?"

"Half day. We're havin' that stupid Valentine's party tonight, don't you remember?"

I shook my head. "No, I forgot. I'm not going."

"I'm tryin' to get outta goin'. But Chuck's already asked me to chaperone."

"Sorry," I said. "I'm going to Tony's."

He looked up from where he was picking up a pencil off the floor. "Excuse me?"

"It's not a date," I said. "I promise. He's cooking and we're going to watch some movies. That's it."

"You're goin' to a man's house on Valentine's Day, he's cookin' for you and you're watchin' a movie: That's a date, darlin'."

"No. It's not romantic. He has this theory that if I watch movies about _other_ people with amnesia where they overcome it, my brain will be tricked into doing the same thing."

"He's an idiot."

"That's what Scott said."

"I guess Hell just froze over, 'cause we finally agree on something."

I laughed. "I think Tony's just trying to make me feel better. I don't think he thinks it's actually going to work. He's just being nice."

"You want me to buy him a cookie or something? I don't care _why_ he told you he was doin' it. A man like him doesn't invite a woman like you over just to watch a movie."

I laughed again. "I love how much faith you have in people, it's inspiring," I joked. "And I may regret it later, but what kind of man is Tony, what kind of woman am I, and what does a man like him want from a woman like me? Just off the top of your head."

"He's got commitment problems."

"He was going to _marry_ me. I think that's considered commitment."

"Yeah, but you don't know how long it would have lasted."

"Again, your faith is inspiring."

"And you're a beautiful woman."

"Thank you."

"Men with commitment problems don't have beautiful women to their houses without an agenda."

"Which is…?"

"To get laid."

"Logan?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not going to sleep with him, okay? I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I do have _some_ common sense and I know that sleeping with him would only make everything more confusing than what it already is. And again, the common senses come into play by saying I don't need any extra drama to cause problems. I've got plenty right now. Trust me."

"That doesn't mean he ain't gonna try."

"So? If he tried something, I'll break his hand. Problem solved."

He smiled at me. "Good girl."

"So…" I said. "Mind if I hang out in here for your next class?"

"No. You just gotta help me clean up afterwards if you do."

"I can do that."

So I sat in his class and listened as he retold the horror stories of war. Once he was done, school was out for the day and it was lunch time. I wasn't hungry, but I decided to hang out with everyone anyway.

Once it was done, I went to my room to try to find an outfit to wear to Tony's that night. Even thought it wasn't a date, I still wanted to look nice. I was contemplating if wearing a dress would be too much when there was a knock on the door.

"Yeah, come in," I said, consulting my color chart for ideas.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Scott said, walking into my room.

I smiled at him. "Happy Valentine's Day to you, too."

"I bought you something."

"Did you?"

He nodded. "Do you want to open it?"

"Nah, you can keep it. I don't care too much for gifts," I joked.

"I understand. I'll take it back," he said with a smile, turning as if to leave.

"Well if it'll save you a trip, I'll take it, I suppose." He turned back around and handed me a present wrapped in pink paper. I tore open the wrapping and stared down at the DVD. "'The Holiday'?"

"It's one of your favorite Cary Grant movies. You love him and Katherine Hepburn together."

"Yeah, Hank told me. I don't remember this movie, though. Maybe we can watch it together this weekend?"

"Yeah, I would love to."

"Great," I said with a smile. "Thank you, Scott."

"You should probably thank Lily, actually. She was the one who saw it and made me buy it for you."

"Well, either way, it's very sweet." I gave him a hug. "Thank you."

My relationship with Scott was…well, it was different. We had both agreed it would be best to wait until my memory was back before we moved any further in our relationship. But we hadn't given up all contact completely. There were those few moments when we would find ourselves alone and steal a kiss. He would hold my hand under the table during dinner. His fingers would brush across my cheek and take my breath away as he gave me a goodnight kiss.

I remembered him and remembered how much I loved him and some day it was hard to keep myself away from him. I looked forward to those few precious seconds we would spend together all day long. And all of it made it that much more difficult to pretend as if I didn't care. Because I did.

"So are you getting ready for your date right now? It's a little soon, don't you think?" Scott asked, looking at my closet.

"It's not a date. I told you that. It's just Tony trying to be nice."

"He's a _man_."

I smiled. "Are you aware of the fact that you and Logan keep telling me the same things? It's really starting to get funny."

"Well we're both fathers of girls, so we're bound to agree and say the same thing eventually," he said. "Because this is really the only thing we've ever agreed on."

"Except your concern for me isn't paternal."

"What is it, then?"

"Jealousy."

"You think I'm jealous of Tony?" I nodded. "Maybe I am. Does that bother you?"

"No. It's reassuring."

He smiled at me slightly. "Reassuring of what?"

"That I'm still wanted."

"You will _always_ be wanted, Jayden. You're a beautiful woman."

I smiled back at him shortly. "Some days I don't feel like I am, though. I think I look as odd and awkward as I feel."

"Trust me; you don't look odd or awkward," he said. "And most men notice that."

"And _that_ makes you jealous."

"It also makes me realize I have really good taste."

I laughed. "Well according to the female student's nick names for you, I think it's safe to say that I have pretty good taste, too."

"Are you referring to 'Scotty McHotty?"

I nodded. "Yep."

"Yeah, that's a pretty old one. It's been around for a while."

"So, do you want to help me pick out an outfit to wear tonight?"

"I would love to. Do you have any turtlenecks and wool socks? Some long pants, boots, scarves? The whole layered, modesty thing's in right now, right?"

"Do you think I would look bad in a turtleneck?"

"No, I don't actually. Maybe you should borrow a sweater from Hank. Something big and bulky. As A-Sexual as possible."

I laughed. "So the purple backless dress is out of the question then, eh?"

"Well, considering that it's my favorite dress, yeah; it's completely out of the question."

"Really? It's your favorite?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because it's backless and it looks _very_ nice on you."

I grinned. "I will _definitely_ remember that for future reference," I said. "Maybe I should make a note on my little crazy color chart."

"Don't knock the color chart. You made one for me, too."

"But you don't see colors."

"I know, that's why you made it. You wrote little letters on the tape you put around the coat hangers so I know what color clothes I'm putting on. You did my tie drawer, too."

"Are you serious?"

"The night before Jean's funeral, I was trying to find a tie to wear. I stared at one for half and hour trying to figure out if it was black or blue when you came in and told me it was brown. Later that week you made the chart for me."

"And you actually use it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Well yay for me for being severely OCD and organized." I smiled. "So aside from borrowing a sweater from Hank, what do you think would be appropriate for me to wear on my un-romantic non-date tonight?"

"What's wrong with what you have on?"

"Aside from the fact that I look like, as Logan so lovingly put it, a hobo? I'm wearing shorts and it's quite freezing outside. Not to mention that I'm wearing house shoes."

"You look quite fetching."

"It's the plaid. I look good in lumberjack chic, I can't help it."

"Are women lumberjacks or do they have a different title?"

"Lumberjills?"

"I like that. Let's go with it."

"Works for me." I said. "So are you going to the Valentine's party tonight?"

"Yeah, I have to. I'm a chaperone."

"Logan said Xavier roped him into being one, too. I guess I got lucky."

"Are you going to go at all?"

"I don't know. What time does it start?"

"Six."

"Tony's not meant to pick me up until seven thirty. I suppose I could hang out for an hour and a half. Even if watching teenagers make out does depress me considering the fact that I'm twenty-six and the only serious relationship I've ever had is with my step-brother," I said. "Actually, that's more creepy than depressing, isn't it?"

"Well he's only your _adoptive_ step-brother…but yeah, it is a little creepy."

I smiled. "You're not supposed to agree, Summers."

He smiled back. "Sorry. It's the most natural thing in the world to be engaged to your step-brother. It's very Brady like."

"Okay, now you're just being patronizing."

He laughed. "Sorry," he said again. "Maybe you can be my date for an hour and a half and you won't feel so depressed."

"What about the rest of the night? You'll be dateless. Won't that be sad?"

He shook his head. "Lily can be my date."

"Okay. Can you dance?"

"Yes I can. Hank taught me how when I was about fifteen and I'm pretty good at it, if I do say so myself."

"Good. Now can _I_ dance?"

"Yeah, Hank taught you, too," he said. "And you're not too bad either, Rivers."

"Awesome. Will there be food at this party?"

"Yeah. The kids, the girls mostly, voted on a Marie Antoinette theme, so there's going to be a lot of sweets."

"Well if there's dancing and sugar, I'll definitely be there."

"That's always been your motto."

"Really?"

He laughed. "No. If it was, it would be very stupid."

"Hey, you never know with me. I'm a very odd woman."

"You're also a very beautiful one."

I felt myself blush. "Does that overshadow the oddness?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Well thank you," I said, putting my DVD on my bed. "But what are you buttering me up for?"

"I'm not."

"I'm not buying it."

"You don't have to. Sometimes it's okay to compliment someone without wanting anything in return."

"Sorry," I apologized, sitting on the edge of my bed. "The amnesia makes me a little…leery of people still."

He shook his head. "It's not the amnesia; you've always been like that."

"Well I'm sorry."

He walked over to where I was sitting and crouched down in front of me. He brushed a strand of hair from my face and ran the tips of his fingers across my cheek gently. "You don't have to apologize every time someone tells you something about you that you think other people may not like. Everyone has flaws."

"I seem to have more than others."

"No, you don't. Trust e. We're _all_ screwed up. Life has a way of doing that to us."

"You seem pretty well adjusted."

"It's a façade."

I smiled at him. "It's a good looking one."

He laughed. "Now who's buttering up who?"

I laughed. "I'm just making it even," I said. I bent my face down to his and he kissed my forehead. "That was sweet." He moved his mouth and kissed mine. "And that was even sweeter."

He smiled. "I have to go to Lily's school; she accidentally left the Valentine's for her classmates here. Otherwise we could sit here and do this all day."

I smiled back and kissed his nose. "Go take her cards to her. I know she worked hard filling them all out by herself."

"You helped her some."

"She asked me how to spell 'Valentine' once and that was it. Your child is a genius."

"Yes she is," he said. "Do you want to go with me?"

"No, I think I'll stay here. But thanks."

He stood up and looked down at me. "Okay. I'll be back in a little while. Do you need anything while I'm out?"

I shook my head and smiled at him. "I don't think so."

"If you need anything, call me."

"Alright. Be careful."

"I will be," he said, then left my room.

I looked down at the DVD Scott had given me and even though I didn't remember the movie, something about it reminded me of ice cream and death. My mind searched until and then, finally, a memory emerged.

"_Hey, I was wondering where you were. I didn't see you at breakfast_,_"_ Scott said, walking into the den the next day.

I had been hiding out in there all day watching a Cary Grant movie marathon on TV. I was curled up on one of the couches and wrapped up in a blanket watching 'The Holiday' when Scott found me.

"_Yeah, I wasn't very hungry and didn't feel like going to the dining hall with everyone."_

"_Are you getting hungry?"_

I shrugged from under my blanket. _"A little. I'm pretty much just too lazy to get up."_

He smiled and pulled a carton from behind his back. _"Could you eat ice cream?"_

I smiled back at him. _"You bought me a pint of Half Baked?"_

"_Someone once told me that the best comfort food is ice cream."_

"_Whoever told you that was absolutely right."_

"_So do you mind if I sit and watch the movie with you?"_

"_No, go ahead."_

He sat down beside me, careful not to sit on my toes, and handed me the pint of Ben and Jerry's and a spoon. He smiled as I took my first bite of it. _"Feeling better now?"_

"_I'm starting to, thank you,"_ I said. _"This was very nice of you."_

He gave the top of my feet a quick rub through my blanket. _"You may not think that once I tell you that you have to share it with me." _He gave me a smile._ "Or at least let me have a bite and see what all the fuss is about."_

"_All right, did you bring another spoon?"_

"_No, but I think we established a while back that I don't have cooties."_ I laughed. _"Do you?"_

I shook my head. _"Not the last time I checked,"_ I said.

My eyes came back into focus and settled once again on the DVD. It wasn't long after that that I had a vision of a dead girl. She was one of the victims in the Blind Man Murders. His daughter had been the first person I had ever killed. Things were starting to line back up. Unfortunately not all of it was good things.

I let out a sigh and ran my fingers back through my hair. It was only a little after noon and the party wasn't starting until six hours later, but I wanted to go ahead and pick out my outfit for Tony's house, so I got off my bed and went back to my closet. But then I decided I wanted to listen to some music while I was looking through my clothes.

I went to by CD player and looked at the CDs sitting beside it. Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, Genesis and a few burnt CDs from Tony made up of different standard singers and jazz musicians. The last one, the one closest to the CD player, was Jimmy Durante. I knew I was a fan of the Stones, but the rest weren't too familiar. The only one that stood out was Jimmy Durante. I pulled out the CD and looked at the back of it. Again, none of the tracks looked familiar, but I felt compelled to put it on. So I did.

I looked through my closet, pulled out clothes and tried them all on. I was torn between just wearing casual clothes, something comfortable I could relax in, or if I wanted to dress up a little bit. If I wanted to put an effort into looking nice for Tony.

If my relationship with Scott was different than what I had learned most normal ones were, then my relationship with Tony was even more different and confusing. He didn't kiss me like Scott did, but the flirting was there. And the chemistry was undeniable. Rogue had told me that when we were together, we would like up a room.

And I believed her.

When we were together, we clicked. Like a couple in an old, forties screwball comedy; bickering and flirting at the same time. I had remembered enough about him to know why we had been together to begin with, I just couldn't remember enough to know why we had broken up.

The problem was that I had remembered my feelings for him. And considering that I still remember how I felt about Scott, my heart was confused.

How could I get my head to choose?

I had about decided on just wearing a pair of blue jeans, the flannel shirt I had on and a vest on over it when the CD changed songs. I hadn't been paying too much attention to it, focusing more on my clothes than the music. But when the songs changed and the opening notes of the new song started playing, I stopped everything I was doing immediately. I _knew_ the song. I just didn't know how.

'_I'll be seeing you. In all the old familiar places that this heart of mine embraces all day through._

_In the small café; the park across the way; the children's carousel; the chestnut trees; the wishin' well._

_I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day; in every thing that's light and gay. I'll always think of you that way._

_I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new. I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you._

_I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day; in every thing that's light and gay, I'll always think of you that way._

_I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new. I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.'_

As soon as the song went off, I dropped what I was holding, turned off the CD player and left my room. Logan wasn't there, he and Rogue had gone out, so I couldn't ask him about the song. But there was one person I could ask.

I made my way from the teacher's wing to the elevator and from there to the bottom level. Once I got off, I walked down to Hank's office. He had gone there after lunch to work on some medical thing I really didn't understand, so I knew he was there.

"Hey Hank," I said, walking into his office.

"Good afternoon, Jayden. How are you today?"

"I'm good thanks. You?"

"I'm doing very well," he said. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"A memory."

"Ah, a new one?"

"Yeah."

"And you need some help with it?" I nodded. "Well, have a seat my dear. Perhaps I can help you understand it better."

I sat down in the chair across from him. "Do you know a song called 'I'll Be Seeing You'? It's by a singer named Jimmy Durante. I don't know if you've ever heard of him or not."

He smiled. "Yes, I do know him. I know the song, too."

"Do you know how _I_ know it?"

"Yes," he said. "It was playing while you're mother gave birth to you."

"They had the radio playing in the hospital?"

"No, in the bar."

I looked at him confused. "What are you talking about? What bar?"

"Has Logan not told you about when you were born?"

I shook my head. "Why would he? He wasn't there. I didn't know him until I was grown."

"Yes, while that's true, he _was_ there when you were born."

"Okay. What does that have to do with a bar, though?"

"That's where you were born. Your mother somehow knew that Logan was there, she went to confront him about you and went into labor while she was there."

"So she gave birth to me in a _bar_?"

"The lady's room to be exact."

I laughed slightly. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, Logan helped to deliver you."

"Well," I said, "that sure helps explain a lot."

"There's no research to suggest that the environment we're immediately born into has any effect on our personalities or psyches. It's hereditary or due to the environment in which we're raised."

"But I was like, _seriously_ born in the bathroom of a bar?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"And they were playing that song by that Jimmy Durante dude?"

"That's what I've been told."

"But why would I know it? I couldn't possibly remember that from when I was born."

"No, your mother sang it to you when you were younger. You used to hum it to yourself before you went to sleep. You didn't know what the song was until you met Logan and he told you. Later that year he bought you that very CD for you for Christmas," he said. "You still hum it at night to get to sleep or when you're trying to calm your nerves."

"I catch myself humming sometimes at night, but I never knew what it was. I guess I know now."

"Does it help at all?"

I nodded. "Yeah, a little bit. It's weird with my memories, though. Sometimes I can't figure out if it's an actual memory that I've remembered, or if it's just my mind acknowledging what I'm being told." I shrugged. "I guess it'll be a while before I get that figured out, huh?"

He smiled at me. "You've made amazing progress so far. Soon you'll be remembering it all as if nothing ever happened."

I smiled back at him. "You've always had faith in me Hank. Sometimes I think that's the only reason why I remember anything at all."

"I don't think I deserve quite that much credit, but I appreciate it," he said. "Will you be attending the Valentine's party tonight?"

"Yeah, for a little while. I'm going to Tony's house but I'll get to go for a bit before he comes to get me."

"You're going to Tony's?"

"Yeah. He's rented some movies about amnesiacs for us to watch and he's going to cook me dinner."

"A date then."

"No. Neither of us are dating, we don't have anyone to spend Valentine's Day with, so we thought we'd spend it together."

"What does Scott think of it?"

I gave him a look. "Why does it matter what he thinks?"

He smiled. "For all the trouble you go through to keep your relationship a secret, it's quite pointless considering we all know about it."

"There is no relationship. Scott and I are only friends."

"I wasn't aware that people who are 'only friends' kiss quite as often as the two of you," he said with a sly smile.

"How do you know about that?"

He continued to smile. "Though this is a large school, there's rarely a time when you truly have any privacy."

"So you've seen us?"

"Only once."

"Then how do you know we've even kissed more than once?"

"Because I've heard the students talking."

I sat back in my seat and let out a breath. "Great, that's what I need; the students talking about it and Logan hearing them."

"Why do you care if he hears them?"

"Because as far as he's concerned, Scott and I…we're not together. Which we aren't. But he doesn't need to know about anything that we do. I promised him that I would cool it off with Scott until I got my memory back. I haven't exactly kept that promise and I don't need him to know about it."

"You don't think he already knows?"

"If he _did_ know, I think he would have said something to me by now."

"Unless he's waiting for you to say something first."

"Do you think he is?"

"I don't know. It's possible."

I let out another breath. "Fantastic. If he does know and I never mention it, I'll feel guilty. But if he doesn't know and I say something, he's going to be pissed. So what do I do?"

"You're clairvoyant -"

"- Not psychic."

"But you can use your intuition to help you figure out the situation so you'll know the appropriate action to take."

"I think I would rather just run away from it all."

"Life is full of problems. You'll never be able to outrun them all."

"Oh, but I sure can try, McCoy."

He laughed. "The faster you run, the harder it is to see the pot holes."

"I…I don't even know what that means," I said with a laugh and standing. "But I'm going to go find some chocolate, watch some junk TV, hope that Logan doesn't know I've been lying to him and attempt to keep myself from being too depressed about the fact that it's Valentine's Day, the most romantic holiday ever, and my only date is my lovely step-brother."

"He used to be your fiancé, it shouldn't depress you too badly, my dear."

"That's true. Even if I don't remember being engaged to him."

"It _was_ a short engagement after all," he joked.

"Were we happy, do you think?"

"You and Tony?"

"Yeah. Was I happy with him?"

"In a way, yes."

"What way wasn't I?"

"My own personal theory? I think you had always seen yourself with Scott and as you began planning your wedding to Tony, you realized you couldn't put him through a marriage that you weren't completely devoted to."

"But I loved him, didn't I?"

"You cared very deeply about Tony. And you _did_ love him. I just don't believe it was the type of love that marriages are built on."

"Then why did I say yes when he asked me to marry him?"

"As I said; you _did_ love him. You genuinely _wanted_ to marry him. You thought with time you could come to love him the way you wished you could," he said. "Unfortunately it didn't happen. And the two of you parted ways eventually."

"Do you think that was the right decision?"

"I believe it was the right decision for you right then."

"I've seen a lot of visions of us arguing. Did we fight the whole time we were together?"

"You always had disagreements, you're both opinionated people, there's no way to avoid that. But towards the end, yes; the two of you fought more than usual."

"Why?"

"You told me you wanted to see how angry you could make him to know how much he would let you get away with and still stay with you. You pushed him to make him prove his love and devotion to you."

"That's horrible. Why would I do that?"

"People who have claimed to love you have abandoned and hurt you before. Although you've almost healed, those wounds are still there. And they still cause you to be suspicious of other people." He stood up and walked over to me. He put his hand on my shoulder and looked in my eyes. "You were scared that Tony would hurt you, so your logic was to hurt him first."

"And I did, didn't I?"

"We always hurt the ones we love, I'm afraid."

"Well I guess I found out how much he loved me, huh? What man would stay friends with their fiancé after they put them through all of that then broke up with them if they _didn't_ love them?"

He gave me a kiss on the top of my head. "The past is the past. Let it lie. We can only move on from here."

I wrapped my arms around him as much as I could and hugged him. I couldn't believe that I had been scared of Hank the first time I saw him. He was one of the sweetest, most gentle souls, and I understood why he was my best friend.

He hugged me back and I felt him give me another kiss on the top of my head. He held me tight for a couple of minutes before letting me go. He looked down at me and gave me a wink. "If you promise not to tell anyone, I'll let you in on a little secret," he said.

"And what's that?"

"I've made fudge. There's some in the kitchen."

"For reals?"

He smiled. "Yes."

"You're awesome, Hank," I said, standing on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," he said.

I left the infirmary feeling better than I had in weeks. I regretted the fact that I had hurt Tony, but I was glad that I finally knew why we had broken up. Maybe now that there were no more secrets, my mind could fully concentrate on what made it forget. And things could finally get back to normal.


	8. Remembering You

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. But I am about to go get a big bowl of chili and try to keep from freezing. Enjoy, ya'll!

* * *

I spent the next few hours watching dumb romantic movies on TV before getting dressed and going down to the school's ballroom to help the rest of the staff set up for the party. Logan and Rogue were back and I kept catching glances from him every time I spoke to Scott that made me wonder if he knew what was going on between us or if he was keeping an eye on us to make sure that nothing was.

Part of my mutation was that I was supposed to have a strong intuition. But all the good it was doing me right then. I had gotten used to most of my mutations; visions, enhanced senses, agility. It was the intuition I had the most problems with. I had a hard time getting a clear reading. And with Logan, someone who played as close to his chest as he did, it was impossible for me to know what he was thinking.

So I kept busy and did my best to stay away from Scott without it looking obvious that I was avoiding him. When it was time for the party to start, the kids started filing in and it was easier for me to relax.

Until Scott reminded me that I was meant to be his date.

"What's wrong?" he asked, walking up behind me.

I was standing by the punch bowl, dipping myself a cup of pink lemonade. "Nothing's wrong. Why?"

"You don't seem like you're enjoying yourself very much," he said, stopping right beside me.

"I am. It's just that the noise is giving me a bit of a headache. I got used to all of the kids talking at once, but now there's loud music. It's just going to take some adjusting."

"You look like you're avoiding me."

"Is it that obvious?" I asked. He nodded. "Sorry. I didn't mean for it to be. It's just…Logan's here, you know?"

"Logan's _always_ here," he said with a small smile. "It's never stopped you before."

I smiled back at him slightly. "He's usually not looking over my shoulder the way he is tonight. He's seriously been keeping his eye on me."

"You're paranoid."

"You don't think he's staring at us?"

He looked around the room until he spotted Logan leaned up against the wall to the right of us. Rogue was with him.

"No, it looks like he's ogling Rogue's chest."

I cocked my eyebrow at him. "Are _you_ ogling her chest?"

"Absolutely not."

"Are you ogling mine?"

He smiled, showing his dimples. "No, it wouldn't be polite."

"Maybe I don't want you to be polite."

He smile grew bigger. "You were nervous about Logan seeing you with me, but now you're flirting in front of him? You're a very strange woman, Rivers."

I laughed. "It's your fault."

"It's my fault that you're strange?"

"No, that one I can't help. I was talking about the flirting; that's your fault."

"Why's that?"

"You make it too easy."

"Well, if Logan wasn't staring at us before, he is now."

I looked over and saw him glaring at us. I smiled sheepishly and gave him a small wave. He didn't return either, but he turned his attention elsewhere.

"Do you know what would really make him stare?" he asked with a boyish grin.

"If we stripped down naked and went at it in the middle of the room?"

I watched a blush start in his cheeks and immediately spread to his ears and down his neck. "Uh, yeah…yeah, that would definitely get people to stare. Maybe not in a good way, though," he said. "I was thinking more along the lines of just dancing with me."

I smiled at him. It didn't matter that he was a forty-two year old man; he was still embarrassed by talking about sex. I thought it was cute.

"Okay, I suppose I could dance with you," I said, setting my cup of lemonade down on the table beside me. He took my hand and led me to the middle of the room. I put my left hand on his shoulder and he took my other in his and pulled it to his chest. "Is this right?"

"It's perfect."

We danced for a few moments in silence. I liked being that close to him, and having him hold me in his arms. I wasn't a small girl by any means. I stood at around five-foot-eight, but Scott was a good six to seven inches taller than me and there was something very romantic about that. I think most girls want a man who can sweep them off their feet and Scott could definitely do that. I liked being with him. He made me feel comfortable. He put me at ease. Even when my mind was whirling with all the sounds, my thoughts, the emotions from all the other people in the room; he calmed it. And I loved that.

I loved _him_.

As we were dancing, I lay my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I felt dizzy and unsure of my movements for a few seconds and when I opened my eyes to catch my bearings, I saw I wasn't dancing with Scott anymore.

I wasn't even in the ballroom.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a hotel room. The light was dim, the curtains were pulled and there was a man sitting in a chair, drinking a glass of brandy.

He was older, middle-aged, and wearing a dress shirt, pants and a tie. His suit jacket was slung over the arm of his chair, a cigar peeked out from an inside pocket.

There was a noise in the other room and then the door opened. The woman stood in the bathroom doorway. Her long black, wavy hair hung down around her shoulders, her bangs covering her eyes. All that could be seen of her face was her shiny red lips.

She was wearing lingerie; a black and red teddy with garters, elbow length black gloves, a sheer black robe hanging open loosely and patent leather, high heeled thigh high boots with heels that looked to be at least five inches high.

Her reason for being there was clear.

"Are you ready for some fun?" she asked. Her voice was low, slightly raspy, and she had a light French accent.

"Oh yeah," he said. Then he downed the rest of his brandy.

The woman sauntered over to him in the dark and stopped about a foot way from him. She slid out of her robe and let it drop to the floor. Then she began to dance. There was no music, but she didn't care. She continued to seduce him with her movements, which was clearing doing its job.

She took the empty glass from his hand and sat it down on the table beside him. The she grabbed his hand and pulled him up. "Why don't you join me?" she whispered in his ear, then flicked her tongue over it.

He smiled and pulled her to him roughly. "Why don't we just skip the first act and get right to the main show?"

She pushed herself away and shook her finger at him playfully. "You don't want to play with me? You don't enjoy my entertainment, mousieur?"

"No, I'm enjoying it _very_ much."

"Then let's go slow. We have all night."

"I'm not a very patient man. I get what I want _when_ I want it. And right now, I want you."

"I'm here, no? You want me, you get me. But let's have fun first, oui?"

He didn't reply so she took it as a 'yes' and moved back from him. She encircled him until she was behind him, pressed up against his back. She moved her hands up and down his torso as she kissed his neck. He relaxed into her touch as she reached up to loosen his tie. He took it from her and pulled it from his neck, throwing it to the floor. Then she unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt.

She continued to run her hands over his chest, through his hair, and kiss his neck until he was so into what he was feeling, he didn't know what was going on around him.

She pulled a knife from one of her boots and with one quick, accurate motion, she slit his throat.

She stepped away and let him drop to the floor. His body kicked and shook as she watched him exsanguinate. He let out moans of death that came out as nothing more than gurgles as blood poured from his mouth. After a few moments, he stilled and she watched the life leave his eyes.

Once he was dead, she threw the knife down beside his body. Then, careful not to get blood on her shoes, she bent down to him. She took her hand and reached into the slit she had cut in his throat and pulled his tongue through the opening. A Colombian Neck-Tie was what it was called. She clearly wasn't trying to make it look like suicide.

She stepped away from the body, avoiding the blood spilling out over the carpet. She carefully pulled the elbow length gloves from her hands and tossed them to the ground.

She pressed a button in her ear. "This is codename Shiva. My mission is accomplished; the target's dead. I'm packing my things and leaving. I need a cleaning crew now."

The woman I had been watching was me.

I had killed the man.

As the rest of the blood poured its way onto the carpet from the wound in his neck, I moved quickly but calmly through the room, collecting my things. I had a large black purse and used the robe I had been wearing to pick up the bloody gloves and stuff them into it along with the robe itself. I pulled a black trench coat on over the lingerie I was wearing and tied the belt around it. I pulled on a new pair of black gloves, pushed on a pair of sunglasses and exited the room.

I walked down a hallway and through a door marked 'Emergency Exit Only'. There should have been alarms, but there weren't any. They had been disabled. The emergency exit led me to a flight of stairs that I almost ran down, not bothered by my extremely high high heels.

At the end of the stairs there was another door. I went through it and was led to a back alley. Snow was falling and had started to cover the ground. Just as I stepped out into it, a black Sedan pulled up in front of me. Two others were with it to block off the other entrances to the alley.

Three men in suits and long pea coats stepped out of the car, each holding bags, and walked over to me.

"Are you sure the target's dead?" one of the men asked. He was new to the job.

I gave him a look as I pulled my wig off. "Yes, I'm sure," I said, shoving it into my purse along with my sunglasses and gloves. I handed it to one of the other agents and he placed the purse in his bag and cinched it shut.

"How do you know?" the new agent questioned.

"Because I slit his throat. You want me to try it on you and see if you survive?" I asked.

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Then shut up and do your job."

I pulled off my trench coat and placed it in the other agent's bag. I could feel the new agent staring at me from behind his dark sunglasses and grasped a few of his thoughts. I looked up at him.

"If you want to _keep_ your eyes, I suggest you stop staring. The longer it takes me to get changed, the more I risk getting caught at the scene. And right now you're dangerously close to compromising my mission because I don't care how long it takes, I will cut your freakin' eyes out and have Agent Young run over them with the car. If you don't believe me, ask them about the agent you're replacing," I said. "So I suggest you get your eyes _off_ my boobs and do your job."

"Yes ma'am," he said.

"Do I look like a freakin' 'ma'am' to you, Agent?"

He shook his head. "No ma'am."

"Then don't call me one."

I stripped off the rest of my clothes and the agents bagged them along with my boots. Modesty wasn't something I could afford in a profession like mine. The object was to get out of the old clothes and into the new, clean ones in as little time as possible. So after stripping down, I was given the clothes I had been wearing before changing into my disguise that day: A beige sun dress, tights, a brown leather jacket, boots, a brown fedora, sunglasses and a purse.

I took out my ear piece and gave it to them before cleaning off my red lipstick in favor of some Chapstick.

Then they sent me on my way.

They were going to burn my old clothes and make sure they had everything ready for when the doctor I had killed was found to cover my tracks.

I was going home.

I drove myself there and went straight to my room. I walked back to my bathroom and turned on the water to begin filling up the tub. Then I went back to my closet and put away my jacket, tights, boots, hat and purse. After that I checked on the water level in my bathtub before leaving the room. I walked down the hall and knocked on Logan's door. A few seconds later, he answered.

"You're back already?" he said.

"Yeah, it didn't take as long as I thought it would. He liked his brandy quite a bit. After he got a few glasses in him, it wasn't too hard to talk him into leaving."

"Who was he?"

"A pediatrician, Dr. Rick Langer. He molested at least five children, all boys, but there wasn't enough evidence to convict him. He raped two kids but their families were pretty poor, so he paid them off. Their cases never went to trail."

"You should kill them next."

"Thought about it," I said. "But aside from the seven of them, I don't know how many other kids there are that haven't spoken out."

"Did he put up a fight?"

"He never knew I was coming," I said. I looked away from him for a second and looked up and down the hallway to make sure we were along. Then I looked back to him. "Will you confess me?"

His face was serious. "Yeah."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Forgive me my father for I have sinned. I murdered a man today. His sins were greater than mine and I took his life to save those of others. But in exchange for murdering him, I took money and that was out of greed. I seek forgiveness from you for my sins. So _please_ forgive me."

He bowed his head and kissed the top of mine. "You're forgiven." I took another deep breath and opened my eyes to look up at him. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

"Don't worry about it."

"Well I left my bath running, so I'm going to go wash off and relax for a little while. You still up for out date tonight?"

He gave me an almost smile and nodded his head. "Yeah, if you are."

"I'm always up for barbeque and a Stooges marathon. Besides, it's your turn to buy dinner."

He gave a small laugh before kissing my head once more. "Go take a bath and rest. I'll come get you when it's time for lunch, all right?"

"Okay," I said. "I love you, Logan."

"Right back at'cha, kid."

I gave him a kiss and a small hug then went back to my room. My bath was nearly full, so I turned off the water and climbed in, dress and all. It didn't matter that I had changed clothes; I still felt dirty. Like I was covered in blood, even if I couldn't see it, and I just wanted it gone.

The hot water felt nice around me and I let my head rest against the back edge of the tub and closed my eyes.

Once the job was over, it was out of my hands. But it took a little while to get it out of my mind. I went over the events, doing a mental check list to make sure I had done everything right. I trusted my team to do their part by taking out security cameras, disabling alarms and feeding me enough information to make contact with my target. But once I did make contact, everything was up to me.

I couldn't make myself _too _known, or I would arouse suspicions from the people around us when the murder investigation came up.

I couldn't break cover. Once I was set up in disguise and given my alias, I couldn't slip and become Jayden. Not even for a second.

I couldn't let the targets know I was going to kill them, because then they would get frantic. Loud. They would draw unwanted attention.

I couldn't kill and target and leave their body the same way twice. I couldn't be labeled a serial killer, so the acts all had to be different, quick and effective.

And I couldn't get emotionally involved. The people that I killed were bad people that had done bad things, and I was killing them to protect other people. But I couldn't let their actions enter my mind. If I did, a simple hit would become a crime of passion because there would be no way to let their victim's pain enter my mind without wanting to make my targets suffer. Which is what I truly felt that the deserved.

I was my job to kill people, not empathize with their victims. When I was working, my emotions were put aside. I had no need for them there.

After my mental rundown of the job, I let out a sigh. I couldn't find any flaws, so it was time to let the job go.

It was done.

There was a knock on my bedroom door and I called out for whoever it was to come in. A few seconds later I heard Scott's voice.

"Are you in the bathroom?" he asked.

"Yeah, come on in."

The door to my bathroom was half way closed. He pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped in the room. When he saw I was in the bathtub, he turned his head. "Oh, I uh…I didn't realize you were taking a bath," he said, blushing slightly.

I laughed. "It's fine, Scott; I'm dressed."

"In the bathtub?" he asked, his head still turned away from me.

"Yeah, I didn't feel like changing," I said. "It's okay, you can look." He turned his head back towards me but stood still. I smiled at him. "You look like you've never seen a woman in a bathtub before."

"Well I don't usually go around watching women bathe, Jayden. It's not really an appropriate thing to do."

I shrugged my shoulder and ran my fingers over the lips of the tub. "I'm not bothered by it. You've seen me naked before."

"You were dying. I had to take your suit off to save you. I had no intentions of -"

"Scott," I said, interrupting him, "I'm not complaining."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Trying to seduce you. Is it working?" I asked with a small laugh.

"No, something's wrong," he said. He walked over to the bathtub and sat on the edge of it. He reached out his hand and used it to gently lift my chin to look up at him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I broke up with Tony," I said quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"I just couldn't do it. I could be with him after…everything. I tried, but I couldn't."

He moved his hand and brushed it over my hair before bending over to kiss my temple. "No one blames you. You tried, that's all you could do."

"He hates me."

"No he doesn't. No one hates you."

"Maybe not. But no one loves me, either. And that's nearly as bad."

"Everyone loves you, Jayden. We all do."

"No Scott," I said, looking into his eyes the best I could. "I want someone to _love_ me. To _be_ in love with me." I shook my head and let out a breath. "I want someone to feel about me the same way I feel about you. The way I've _always_ felt about you."

He stared at me for a few long moments, his hand still holding my head gently. "Someone does," he finally said.

I gave him a sad smile. "Yeah, but I have to go find who that is."

He shook his head at me. "No you don't," he said, his voice quiet, serious. "I'm right here. And I've _always_ loved you."

"Don't play with me. Not right now."

"I'm not."

It took a few seconds for his words to sink in, and when they did, I felt my eyes well up with tears. "Are you serious?" He nodded. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" I was relieved and angered at the same time.

"Because you were with Tony."

"But you…you knew all this time how I felt about you. You've known all these years how much I loved you. It didn't matter if I was with Tony. You _knew_ that I loved you," I said. "And what were you going to do? Were you just going to let me get married and never tell me how you felt?"

"I would have told you?"

"When would you have told me? _When_? It's been six years, Scott. I've been in love with you for _six_ years. You've known that. When did you realize that you were in love with me?" I asked. "How long have you waited?"

"I've always loved you Jayden, but…four years. I've been in love with you for four years," he said. Tears rushed down my face. He wiped them away with his hand. "Please don't cry."

"I'm happy."

"Really? Because you don't look it."

"I'm mad, too. But I'm happy," I said. I looked up at him. I studied him. But I couldn't find a flaw in what he was saying; it wasn't a lie. "Do you _really_ love me?"

"Yes," he said. He placed his forehead to mine. "Yes, I really love you."

"You're a jerk for making me want so long."

He smiled very slightly. "I know. But I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Good. I want you to do something for me."

"Anything."

I placed my hands on either side of his face and took a deep breath. "I want you to make love to me, Scott," I whispered. "Can you do that for me? Please?"

He took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can do that."

"I love you, Scott."

He kissed my lips softly. "I love you, too."

My sight shifted, everything went blurry, and when it came into focus, I was back in the ballroom, still wrapped in Scott's arms.

But we weren't dancing.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I had a vision. I think I need to sit down."

"All right, come on." He led me away from the dance floor and over to the edge of the room where there were chairs lined against the wall. I sat down in one of them and he squatted down beside me. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I just need to sit here for a second."

Cue Logan walking towards me. He made his way across the room in less than forty seconds. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I had a vision. I'll be fine."

"Vision of what?" I didn't say anything. "Vision of _what_?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Just something that I did. It was of me. It was nothing, don't worry."

"I've got it covered, Logan," Scott said.

"Why don't your check on your daughter and let me deal with mine, Slim?"

He stood up. "Where is Lily?"

"She's with Rogue eatin' cookies," he said, pointing across the room. "She's already had about twelve of 'em."

"I don't doubt it. She'll be bouncing off the walls later. I'll never be able to get her to bed tonight," Scott said. He bent down and kissed my cheek. "If you leave before I see you again, have fun with Tony tonight."

I gave him a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I will," I said. "Thanks."

Logan sat down in the chair beside me. "What did you see?" he asked.

I looked over at him. "I saw me killing someone," I said quietly.

"Who?"

"A doctor. I told you about him after I killed him. I said his name was Rick Langer, or something."

"The one that molested all those kids?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "I killed him as part of my job, didn't I?"

"He was a target, yeah."

"I killed him without flinching. Without any hesitation. Without any _emotion_." I ran my hand over my face. "This is the first vision I've had of me doing that. It's the first time I've ever seen myself assassinate someone. How did I do it? How could I take someone's life and not care?"

"You _did_ care, that's why you did it. But you weren't approached to do your job 'cause people thought you'd get caught up in all the emotions. Your first few hits you did. You let yourself be too open and when you killed 'em, you saw what they'd done. You'd come home cryin'. Then you learned to tough it out, get the job done and come home. You'd ask for forgiveness and that'd be it.

"Not to seem rude, but why did I confess to you? Why ask for your forgiveness? I didn't do anything to you and you can't wipe away my sins. You're not a priest. So why you?"

"You didn't do it to get your sins wiped away, 'cause we both know I need that more than you."

"Then why?"

"You had to admit what you did so you could get over it and move on. You didn't need to go into detail about it, just acknowledge you did it."

"So why ask for your forgiveness?"

"'Cause it's your way of dealin' with what you do. You don't mind the killin', you just feel bad about takin' the money. That's why you still have almost all of it; you feel guilty spendin' it."

"Why do I take it at all, then?"

"'Cause it's a job. You work for it."

"What if I do something that you think is unforgivable?"

"That ain't gonna happen, darlin'. There's nothing you could do that I wouldn't forgive you for," he said. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," I said. "I have something to tell you."

"What?"

"I haven't exactly kept my promise about staying away from Scott."

"I know."

"You do?"

"I'm not an idiot, kid. You think I don't know what's goin' on with you?"

"No, I do. I just…look, I lied to you. I didn't _mean_ to. But it's complicated."

"Everything with you always is."

"I _am_ sorry, Logan. I really am."

He didn't say anything for a long time. He just stared at me intently as he thought. "I can't tell you to stay away from Summers. You're a grown woman; you make your own decisions. But I want you to listen to me real good; I don't tell you not to do crap 'cause I don't want you to be happy. You're my daughter; I _want_ you to be happy. I tell you not to do something so you won't end up gettin' hurt. You wanna be with Summers, then go on. I can't stop you. But I'm tellin' you you'd better be careful," he said. "Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I understand. And I will be careful," I said. "I promise."

"You wanna get outta here, clear your head before Tony comes to get you?"

"Aren't you meant to be chaperoning?"

"I think they got it covered."

"Okay, yeah, let's get out of here for a little bit."

We both left the ballroom and as soon as we got out of the room, I felt better. Just getting away from all of the students, all their thoughts, emotions, energies, took a huge weight off my mind.

Logan and I grabbed our coats and went outside for a walk. It was dark out and snowing.

And I could finally breathe.

We walked around the back yard for a while until Logan led me over to a stone wall that separated the yard from the garden. The wall was only about two and a half feet high and we both sat down on it. He put his arm around my shoulders and I snuggled in close to his side.

When I had first woke up the month and a half before and didn't know who I was, I was told that Logan and I were extremely close. But when I met him and only barely remembered him, I didn't understand how. He was rude, forceful, cocky, annoying and a complete jerk. I didn't care that he was my father; I didn't think there was a way I could be close to a man like him.

And then I got to know him again. I started _remembering_ him. My memories helped me realize that Logan wasn't just a jerk; he did everything for a reason.

When I had first met him and the first couple of years I had spent with him at the school, I had relied on him for so much that I didn't know how to be on my own. It got so bad that at one point, I wouldn't even sleep on my own. If I wasn't in Logan's room with him, he was in mine with me.

When I was a few months shy of my twentieth birthday, I decided to take control of my life and even though Logan was still a huge part of it, he no longer made my decisions for me. For the first time ever, I was finally independent.

So when I woke up and didn't know who I was, my first instinct may have been to ask whoever I could find to tell me what to do, but Logan knew better. He knew I had worked too hard to get to where I was to allow me to just give up and not try.

So while I thought he was being horrible and rude and refusing to help me, he was actually doing what he knew I would want him to do. The more I remembered of my life and who I was, I realized he was right.

He knew me better than anyone else, he loved me more than anyone else, and even if he knew it would piss me off, he always did what he thought was best for me.

And he had.

After enough time, I figured out that everything everyone had told me was true; Logan and I _were_ close. We always fought, we always argued, and we didn't have a problem telling each other exactly what we thought. But it didn't make a difference because we both had ten second rebound rates before we were back annoying the other one again.

But he loved me, I loved him, and that was all that mattered.

"Logan?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you give Tony permission to marry me if you knew I wasn't really in love with him?"

"'Cause that was for you to decide, not me."

"But don't you think it would have solved a lot of trouble if you had just said 'no'?"

He pulled away and looked down at me. "No, I don't. I think Tony would've asked you to marry him no matter what I said. It would've saved trouble if _you_ have told him 'no', though."

"But I didn't."

"And that wasn't my fault."

"I'm not saying it was," I said. "I'm just wondering if you would have done or said something to me before I married him if you knew it was a mistake."

"Yeah, I probably would've said something to you, but I couldn't have stopped you. You're too stubborn. If I'd told you not to, you would've married him just to piss me off."

I laughed. "I don't think I would have gone _that_ far."

"I do."

"If Scott ever asked to marry me, would you give him permission?"

He quirked his eyebrow at me. "You know something I don't?"

"No, I'm just curious if you would."

"Probably not."

"Why?"

"'Cause I hate him. You want a better reason than that you're gonna have to go ask someone else."

"Would you give him permission to marry me if you knew it would make me happy?"

He didn't say anything for a second, then he shrugged. "Maybe."

I smiled at him then leaned over and kissed his cheek. The hair from his muttonchops scratched my chin but I ignored it. "Thank you."

"Hey, I didn't say I _would_ give him permission, I said maybe, so don't thank me yet."

I smiled again and lay my head over on his shoulder. "I know. But thank you anyway."

He kissed the side of my face and wrapped his arm around me again. "Stop thinkin' about gettin' married. You're young, you got a long time before you start thinkin' about that."

"How old were you the first time you got married? Do you remember?"

"Not really. I'd guess about eighty or ninety, though."

"Do you remember who she was?"

"Kind'a."

"Did you love her?"

"Yeah."

"Did she love you?"

"I think so. But I'm not exactly an easy person to love, so I don't know."

"I love you," I said.

He gave me another kiss on my face and pulled me closer to him. "Right back at'cha, kid."


	9. Foolish Games

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel.

Side Note: Sorry for the short chapter, but I just didn't think it needed anything else with it. I hope ya'll enjoy it though and don't throw things at me when you're done.

* * *

Logan and I sat outside for about an hour before Tony came to pick me up. When we got to his apartment, we ate. He had made ravioli stuffed with sausage and mozzarella. Then he pulled out homemade tiramisu from the freezer and I ate most of it. I may not have been able to cook, but he definitely could. I couldn't deny that I was a little bit jealous.

During dinner, he had wine, I had water, and once it was through he poured himself another glass before putting on one of the movies he had rented for me.

The first was 'As You Desire Me', an old movie with Greta Garbo from the thirties as an alcoholic in Budapest married to a novelist. When a stranger shows up and tells her that she's the wife of one of his close friends and that her memory had been destroyed during World War I, everyone goes in search of the truth. It was pretty good.

Then 'The Long Kiss Goodnight'. It was a movie with Geena Davis playing a school teacher who suffers from amnesia and only remembers the last eight years of her life until she's in a car crash that causes her to remember some of her life before then. Eventually she realizes that she's an agent of the CIA.

I hated the movie. Tony said it reminded him of me. I told him he was stupid.

"Well you're more attractive than Geena Davis," he said.

"And so are you," I said as he poured himself another glass of wine. "It doesn't take much."

He laughed. "Well, while that may be true, you do look quite beautiful tonight, Miss Rivers."

"Tony, I'm wearing a flannel shirt and a vest. I'm not exactly dressed to the nines here."

"Yeah, I love that vest."

I quirked my eyebrow at him. "Why? It's a _vest_. I just put it on because I thought it made me look less like a lumberjack."

He stared at it for a few seconds and I could tell he was reminiscing. "You used to wear it without anything under it. Just blue jeans and flip-flops. Logan hated it, but man…that was one of my favorite outfits on you."

I blushed slightly and smiled. "I think you've had too much to drink."

"It takes more than a few glasses of wine to get me drunk, trust me."

"Well I apologize that I'm wearing a shirt under it this time, but it's kind of cold out."

"I understand and I forgive you," he said with a smile.

I was lying across the couch with my back pressed against the arm opposite his. My knees were bent and my feet were buried in the space between the cushions. Tony pulled them out and stretched them across his lap and began massaging my feet through my socks. It wasn't the first time he had done it, so I didn't mind. I just closed my eyes and relaxed.

"You look tired," he said.

"I am. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Why?"

"I stayed up watching TV with Logan."

"Infomercials?"

I smiled. "No, the History Channel. A special on the invasion of Normandy."

"That sounds worth staying up for," he said sarcastically.

I smiled at him again. "It was. Logan was part of the Canadian troops that stormed the beach."

"Really?"

"That's what he told me."

"I guess he's starting to remember more about his life than you now."

I cracked an eye open at him. "Hey, I remember a lot now, thank you. I'm getting there."

"Too bad you don't remember why we broke up," he said, his voice almost inaudible.

I opened my other eye to look at him. "No, I don't remember," I said. "But Hank told me why."

He stopped massaging my feet and looked over at me. "He did?"

I nodded. "Yeah. But you understand why I couldn't do it, right? You understand why we couldn't be together? Because if we had, we both would have gotten hurt worse than what we did."

"Jayden, I _always_ understand _why_ you chose to leave. I just wished it didn't have to be that way."

"Do you ever wish it hadn't happened? That we had never been together at all?"

He shook his head. "No. I was in love with you from the moment I saw you. I always knew that I wanted to spend my life with you. I would never take back the four years we had together because none of that's changed; I still feel that way about you. I'm _still_ in love with you."

"I believe you."

"Good," he said, nodding. "I always want you to believe that."

"I don't understand _why_ exactly, but I still believe it."

"Because you're _worth_ loving."

"I just don't know how you can still believe that after everything I put you through."

"I understand _why_ you did it."

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him. "I'm so sorry, Tony." Before I could help it, I felt tears falling from my eyes.

"Hey, don't cry," he said. He moved my feet from his lap and came to sit beside me on the edge of the couch. He wiped the tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs.

"I'm just really sorry," I said. "I really am. You didn't deserve any of it."

"I forgive you, Jayden. I forgave you a long time ago," he said, stroking my cheek. "We were both caught in a situation we didn't want to be in. And you were right; if we had stayed together, we only would have ended up getting hurt worse than what we did."

I put my hand against his, holding it to my cheek, and kissed the inside of his wrist. He bent his head and pressed his forehead to mine. He took his other hand and placed it at the base of my neck, where it met my shoulder. I mimicked him and did the same.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," I whispered.

"Stop apologizing. There's no need for it anymore. Okay? It's all over with, it's behind us, let's move on. I love you and I forgive you."

I felt my pulse race and my breathing hitch. "Say that again."

"I forgive you."

"No, not that."

"I love you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, tell me that again."

He looked me directly in the eye. "I love you, Jayden. I'll tell you everyday of my life if you want me to," he said. More tears streamed down my face. "I'm always going to love you."

I used my hand on his neck and pulled his mouth down to mine. But he stopped just before our lips touched. "_Please_," I begged him, though I wasn't sure what I was begging him for.

To kiss me?

To keep loving me?

Or…

"Jayden, I can't," he said. "I can't just kiss you and that be it."

"What if I don't want it to be it?" His jaw clenched as he closed his eyes. "What if I want more?" I whispered, my lips brushing against his as I spoke. "What if, Tony?"

In the span of a second, his lips were crushing down against mine, devouring me with his mouth. He kissed me so passionately I lost my breath and struggled to gain it again, but refused to push him away.

I could feel all of the emotions coming from him that it was nearly overwhelming. But I let myself fall into them, to feel what he was feeling, and I realized that most were the same as mine.

Desire.

Need.

Lust.

Love.

He wanted to be touched as much as me.

With sure hands, Tony unbuttoned my vest and flannel shirt, pushing them both off to reveal the black A-shirt underneath. He ran his hands over my skin, causing goosebumps. My body responded to the energy between us as the hair on my arms stood up.

He moved his mouth to my neck and I felt everything become amplified. My breathing became shallow as his mouth left a trail of wet, hot kisses from my ear down to my shoulder bone.

I tried to let go of every thought and just let myself _feel_. The energy between us was so strong, I could feel it in the air as I struggled to breathe while his lips kissed their way back across my shoulder to my collarbone.

I threaded my fingers through his hair and tried to catch my breath while my heart pounded wildly from excitement in my chest. I felt light headed as every touch of his hands made my skin feel like it was on fire.

My free hand was at the collar of his shirt. I stuck it down the opening at his neck and ran it across the tight muscles of his back. My fingers desperate for whatever flesh they could find.

With a final kiss to the hollow of my neck, he pulled away. He looked down at me, his pupils dilated, his own breath coming in shallow.

'_Don't stop_,' I thought. '_Please don't stop now_.'

He quickly pulled his T-shirt off and threw it in the floor beside him. He took my hand and placed it on his chest. I ran my fingers across his muscles gently and watched as he closed his eyes to the touch. I heard his breathing become even shallower and felt his lungs going in and out with a shudder.

My hands weren't quite as sure as his had been. They trembled as I moved them up his body until they came to rest on his face. I pulled it back down to mine and he kissed me once again.

And I could feel a sadness from him. We both knew that this would be the last time we would ever be together. He knew it, but he didn't stop. He pulled me into his arms and promised to give me everything I had been craving for since I had woken up in the infirmary the month and a half before.

He stood up and took my hand in his, helping me up for the couch, and led me back to his room.

That night Tony and I got to know each other again. _All_ of each other.

* * *

My eyes fluttered against the light as it poured itself into the room through a lit in the blinds. When they lost their battle against the light and finally opened, I didn't know where I was.

I sat up in the bed where I had been sleeping and looking around. I was wearing a man's white T-shirt and boxers. My hair was plastered to my face, and when I licked my lips, I tasted grape wine.

It wasn't until I saw the poster for 'Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid' that I remembered I was at Tony's house, in Tony's clothes, in Tony's bed.

"What have you done, Jayden?" I whispered to myself.

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I found a hairbrush of Tony's and used it to untangle my hair. All the sweating and moving around the night before left it looking a mess.

I squirted toothpaste into my mouth and used a paper towel as a makeshift toothbrush. When I was done, I left the bathroom in favor of the kitchen.

I could smell food cooking.

"Hungry?" Tony asked as I walked into the room. He was wearing boxers similar to the ones I had on and a T-shirt with a Dr. Pepper logo on it.

"Yeah. What are you cooking?"

"Omelets. I'm assuming you still like yours with everything in it, right?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"You used to eat everything in them. If you don't like it, I'll make you another one, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"We used to do this every weekend, you know? You would come over and stay the night on Saturday and on Sunday morning I would make us omelets and coffee while you read the newspaper to me. It was our tradition. We did it almost every week for over three years."

"Didn't you get bored with a domesticated lifestyle?"

He shook his head. "No. When I was younger, I never would have imagined being happy living like that, but I was," he said. "I guess that was our Paris."

I cocked my eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?"

"You know, 'We'll always have Paris'. Humphrey Bogart, Rick Blain in 'Casablanca'?" I shook my head. "You've seen it, you may not remember it, but you've seen it."

"Did I like it?"

He nodded. "You said you did, yeah."

"And that character said something about Paris?"

He smiled at me slightly. "He didn't just say _something_ about it. 'We'll always have Paris' is one of _the_ most famous movie lines in history."

I smiled back at him. "Sorry, I don't remember."

He pointed his finger at me. "I'm renting it one night and you're going to come over and watch it. I'll cook for you. Deal?"

"Yeah, deal."

He smiled again. "Sit down and I'll bring you some coffee."

I took a seat and he brought me a cup of coffee. I sipped on it as he finished our omelets. Neither of us spoke as he moved around the kitchen and for a moment, I forgot what had happened. I forgot that we weren't together. That I had lost my memories. For one heart wrenching moment, everything was normal and we were still in love.

After a few minutes, he finished up the omelets and brought them over to the table. Then he crouched down beside me.

"Are you okay? About last night, I mean?" he asked, his voice as serious as I had ever heard it.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Are you sure? I wasn't drunk but the wine did make me a little loose." He scratched his head. "Well, _looser_ than what I usually am, you know? And I just…" He gave a small nervous laugh. "As a cop I recognize that nothing was verbalized."

I put my hand on his cheek and looked him in the eye. "If I didn't want to do it, I would have said 'no'. But I did want to and I _am_ okay with it," I said. "Are you?"

He placed his hand on my knee. "Yeah, I am. I just thought that since Hank told you why we broke up, that would be it. I thought that was it for us." He smiled at me shortly. "I know we're not together, I get that. This was goodbye."

I ran my hand back through his hair and settled it at the base of his neck. I bent down and kissed his forehead softly. "Yeah. This is goodbye."

* * *

"Where have you been?" Logan asked as I walked into the gym a couple of hours later.

Right after breakfast, Tony had to go to work but he dropped me off at home before going. When I got there I went straight to the gymnasium to find Logan. He was teaching his phys-ed class there.

"Tony's. Can we talk?" I asked, walking up to him.

"Yeah." He pointed at his class of twenty students. "All of you give me ten laps around the room. Now. Go," he ordered. The students responded immediately, too scared to piss of Mr. Logan to defy him. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

I looked down at the toes of my scuffed up boots, avoiding his eyes. I took a deep breath and blew it out. "I think I made a big mistake."

"Is it something I can fix?" I shook my head. "You gonna look at me and tell me what you did, then?"

I looked up at him. "Last night I…Tony and I slept together."

I expected him to get mad at me. I expected him to scream, swear, stomp, kick, throw a fit. _Something_. But he didn't. He just looked…disappointed. And that was worse.

"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked. I shrugged. "I thought you had better sense than that? Isn't that what you told me yesterday?"

"Yeah, well, I thought I had better sense, too. Turns out I don't."

"You said if he tried anything you'd break his arm. What happened to that?'

"He _didn't_ try anything."

He nodded. "So you did?"

"Yeah."

"What's the mistake, then? You started it, it was your idea."

"I know, but I shouldn't have."

"Well it's already done, kid. You can't do anything about it now."

"I know," I said again. "But…"

"But what?"

"What am I supposed to do about Scott?"

He stared at me without speaking for a few seconds before finally shaking his head. "You don't tell him."

"What?" I asked confused.

"Last night you fell asleep watchin' one of Tony's stupid movies and ended up stayin' over there. This mornin' you got up late, he made you breakfast, he brought you home. If you're worried about what he'll do, then don't tell him."

"That doesn't seem right."

"You got a better idea?"

"No, that's why I'm asking you."

"Well that's my advice, darlin'. You can take it or leave it."

"Okay, but if I lie and tell him that, what if he finds out the truth later? What am I meant to do then?"

"If you care so much about him and what he thinks, then why'd you sleep with Tony?"

"I don't know. Why did you sleep with Jean if you were in love with Marie?" I asked, my voice sounding angrier than I had meant.

"'Cause I was an idiot. I thought _you _were smarter," he said. He still wasn't mad at me. "Why told you about that?"

"Scott. You told him about it two months after Jean's death, almost a year after it happened. He told me last month."

"And why did he think if was any of your business?"

"He didn't. Not really. I had a vision about the conversation you had when you told him. I asked him about it the next day," I said. "Surprisingly he doesn't hate you for it."

"Do you have a point or are you just gonna keep singin' the praises of a man you couldn't even keep your pants on for?"

I took a deep breath. "No, I'm sorry. I'm pissed at myself and I'm taking it out on you. I'm sorry." I ran my hands back through my hair. I locked my fingers together and rested my hands on the base of my neck. "I'm sorry; I just don't know what to do."

"You've got two choices: Lie or tell the truth."

"Too bad neither of those are without consequence. No matter what, this can't end well. I screwed myself and my relationship with Scott over for one night. Just so I could what? Feel loved for a few hours? Feel wanted and needed?"

"A few hours? I thought a few _minutes_, maybe."

"Logan, I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"How could such a big mistake seem like such a good idea at the time? How could I do something so stupid?"

"'Cause I told you a while back; you're smart, but you don't think about things 'til after you've already done it and can't do anything about it."

"So to fix a mistake I have to lie and feel guilty for the rest of my life or tell Scott and risk losing _everything_ with him?"

"No, neither of those are gonna fix it. It's already done; you can't change it."

I dropped my hands to my side and looked up at him. "Why did I do this?"

"'Cause you're human and you're young. This ain't gonna be the last mistake you ever make and it's not the end of the world. Yeah, you screwed up, everyone does, but you can't sit around cryin' about what happened. You already did it. So make a decision, and make sure it's the right one, and go with it."

"How do I know which choice is the right one?"

"You'll feel it in your guy."

I nodded. "Okay, thanks."

"Come here," he said, pulling me to him in a hug.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me close to him. I buried my face into his shoulder and just let myself be enveloped by him. We stayed like that until the students finished their laps and he had to go back to teaching. He gave me a final kiss and sent me on my way. I left and was walking down the hall when someone whistled at me. I turned around to see Scott standing in the doorway to his classroom. He smiled at me.

"Did you just get home?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"So Tony steals my date and keeps her out all night. Maybe I need to have a talk with him," he joked. "What did you two do?"

'_Make a decision, Jayden. Make the right one. You have to do it now. What's it going to be?_'

"We watched a couple of movies. I fell asleep during the second one. When I woke up, it was past two. I thought it'd be best to just camp out on his couch," I lied.

'_Coward_.'

"Boring movie?" he asked.

"Terrible. It was 'The Long Kiss Goodnight'. I don't think I had ever seen it before. Have you?"

"Yeah, it's pretty bad," he said. "Other than that, did you have a good time?"

"I guess. He cooked dinner, it was pretty good, then he made me breakfast this morning. So it wasn't too bad."

He gave me another smile. "I missed you."

'_The least you can do is smile at him and not let him know you're lying. Just because you made a mistake doesn't mean you have to make another and hurt Scott_.'

I gave him a smile, trying to make it as genuine as I could. "Yeah, I missed you, too. To think, I was sleeping on a couch when I could have been here over dosing on sugar last night," I said. "Speaking of which, did you ever get Lily to bed?"

"Yeah, eventually. It took a couple of hours but she finally went to sleep. I just had to bribe her first."

"With what?"

"She wants combat boots. I don't know where I'm supposed to get a pair in her size, but I promised her I would."

My smile grew bigger. "Why does she want combat boots?"

"You have a pair. She wants some like yours."

"That's really sweet."

"Yeah, my beautiful little girl wants a pair of combat boots so she can kick butt like her Aunt Jayden. _Very_ sweet."

I laughed. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm just glad she has a good female role models. If she's going to want to be like someone, I would rather it be you than Barbie, or some stick thin, crack addicted actress."

"Well I'm neither stick thin nor crack addicted, so I think we're good," I said. "When does your next class start?"

He looked down at his watch. "Ten minutes. Why?"

"Just curious."

"Do you want to sit in on it?"

"No, I think I'm going to go take a shower and maybe a nap."

"Are you tired?" I nodded. "You look it."

"Gee, thanks, Summers," I joked.

He smiled. "Sorry, but you do."

"Yeah, but you're not meant to tell me that."

"Do you want me to lie to you?"

I felt my heart ache. "No, I don't want that."

"Good, then I'll always tell you the truth."

I nodded again and forced a smile at him. "Good," I said. "I think I'm going to go take a shower now."

"Will you be at lunch?"

"If I wake up in time."

"Do you want me to come wake you when it's ready, just in case?"

I gave him a real smile. "That would be very sweet."

He pointed his finger at me and crooked it, motioning for me to come towards him. "Come here," he said. I walked over to him and he hugged me.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"You look like you need it."

I breathed him in. "I do."

He kissed my temple. "If something was wrong, would you tell me?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Is something wrong?"

I closed my eyes and held back tears. "Those stupid moves Tony made me watch were supposed to help me remember but they didn't. I'm just really tired of not being able to," I lied. "And Tony's couch sucks, so I didn't get much sleep. I'm tired, that's all that's wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Sorry if I'm being weird."

I felt him smile. "You're always weird, Rivers."

I laughed slightly. "There you go wooing me with your honesty again."

"Uh, do we need to come back later, Mr. Summers?"

I pulled away from Scott to see a student named Brian standing in the hall with a couple of other students.

"You wish," Scott said, laughing. "Go find a seat."

We moved out of the way to let the students enter. I pushed my hair out of my face and let out a sigh. "I better let you get to your class. I'll see you at lunch."

"All right, have a good nap."

I smiled. "Yeah, I will. Have a nice class. I'll be thinking of you while I'm sleeping."

He laughed. "Don't rub it in."

I gave him another smile and waved at him before turning around and walking down the hall. I went to my bedroom and stripped off my clothes. I stuff them in my dirty clothes hamper and turned on the water in my shower. Then I stepped in. I closed my eyes, raised my face to the water and let it wash over me.

And I cried.

I had made a horrible mistake by sleeping with Tony and an even worse mistake by lying to Scott about it. But I didn't know what else to do. His being nice to me only made me feel all the more guilty.

I cried to myself in the shower, my tears mixing with the water, and I let it all out. I let it all go. My body needed the release and I didn't fight it. Things were too complicated, my heart hurt too much, and there was no way I could keep it all bottled up inside me.

So I cried.

And cried.

And cried.

And I prayed that eventually, I could fix it all and make everything okay again.


	10. This Thing Inside

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. But I'm really enjoying the new 'Wolverine and The X-Men' cartoon. I love me some new Wolvie action.

* * *

Days went by, turning into weeks, and my guilt never let up. I tried to listen to Logan's advice; make a decision, go with it, and don't back out. Which is what I had done.

My memory wasn't doing much better. I didn't remember much more than what I had the month or so before and it was draining trying to keep up lies while trying to remember the truth.

But the second week into the month of March, _everything_ changed.

I had been sick all day, vomiting every few minutes. I was tired, had a headache and a backache. I felt horrible and wanted to cry. Instead, I pulled on a robe and a pair of house shoes and made my way down to the infirmary. I thankfully made it there without puking, but as soon as I reached it, I ran off to the bathroom.

"What seems to be the problem, my dear?" Hank asked after I was seated on an exam table.

"I don't know. I think I have food poisoning or a virus, or something. I've been sick all morning."

"Sick how?"

I pointed to the bathroom. "Throwing up, like I just did. And I just feel completely drained. I've been so tired. Plus my back and head are killing me."

"Any stomachache or diarrhea?"

"No, thank goodness."

"So just the vomiting?"

"Yep."

"Fever?"

"No clue. I've been too tired and lazy to go find a thermometer."

He smiled. "Well, I happen to have one, so I'll check."

He pulled a thermometer from his lab coat pocket along with a disposable cover. He took the cover out of its packaging before sliding it onto the thermometer.

"Open your mouth and lift up your tongue." I did as he said and he placed the tip of it under my tongue before turning it on. "Close your mouth, don't bite down, and give it a few seconds."

I sat patiently as I waited for the thermometer to do its thing and read my temperature. When it beeped, Hank pulled it out and looked at it.

"Am I running a fever?" I asked.

"No, your temperature's normal."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Yes it is," he said. "I'm going to run a few tests and see what it is that's making you ill, is that all right?"

"That's fine," I said. "But do you not have any ideas of what it could be _without_ the tests?"

He smiled at me. "My personal opinion? You've worked yourself up and made yourself sick. You've been trying so hard lately to help out around the school, hoping that it would help you regain some of your memories, I think you've just tired yourself out."

"That can make me throw up?"

"Your nerves can."

"Yeah, I guess."

"But I'll run some tests to make sure. I just think you need a bit of rest and to re-hydrate and you'll be fine."

"Okay, do your worst to me Hank."

I spent almost an hour in the infirmary with Hank as he ran several tests to determine what was wrong. I was in the bathroom throwing up yet again when he told me he had the results and to meet him in his office when I was through. So I did.

But something wasn't right.

"What is it, Hank? What's wrong?" I asked, sitting in the chair across from his at his desk.

"Jayden, I'm afraid I have some very bad news."

My stomach turned at those words. I didn't know what he was going to say, but I didn't want to hear it. My biological mother had died with a brain tumor, what if I had one? What if I had cancer? What if I was dying? What was wrong with me?

"What is it?"

"I ran the test on your blood sample three times to make sure it was accurate."

"Hank, what's wrong with me?" I snapped, unable to keep my temper down. I was scared.

He let out a heavy sigh. "You're pregnant."

It took a few moments for his words to sink in. "I'm _what_?"

"Pregnant," he said, his voice sounding distant and sad. "You're around five weeks along, I would estimate."

"I'm going to have a baby," I said. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. The moment the words left my mouth, I felt them. They made sense. It was why I had been sick all day. Why I had been feeling odd the last couple of weeks. I wasn't dying; I was going to have a baby.

"I will do my very best to make sure that you _do_ have this baby, Jayden. I promise."

My mind came back into focus. "Why wouldn't I have it?"

He looked at me, confused. Then his expression changed. "Oh dear, no one's told you."

"Told me what? What are you talking about?"

"The reason why you and Tony broke up."

"You told me. You said it was because I wasn't in love with him; I was in love with Scott."

I was genuinely confused. I didn't understand what he was talking about. I went from thinking I was dying to being told I was pregnant. And then he threw in my breakup with Tony. What was going on? What did that have to do with anything?

"That's why you _fought_ as much as you did. You broke up because of a vision you had."

"What vision?"

"Jayden, two years ago you had a vision. You were pregnant, about three months along, and you…you saw yourself having a miscarriage. It traumatized you, but you still tried to make it work with Tony. Unfortunately, in the end you realized you couldn't be in a relationship with him if that was going to be your future together. It was too painful."

"No," I said. "You're lying."

"I wish very much that I was, sweetheart. But I'm not," he said. "Who's the father?"

"Tony," I whispered.

"I'm so sorry."

I stood up and paced around his room. "Are you positive that I'm pregnant?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"And about my vision?"

"You told me about it just after it happened. We went over various contraception methods other than what you were using at the time, but because nothing but abstinence can guarantee a hundred percent that you couldn't get pregnant, you felt they were pointless."

I didn't know what to say and I didn't know what to do. I had acknowledged what he had told me; I was pregnant and I would more than likely loose the baby. But it hurt too much to let it sink in. I didn't know how to handle it.

So I screamed.

I screamed and screamed and screamed until my throat was sore and my voice went out. I was trying to catch my breath and rein my thoughts in when Hank came over to me. He tried to hug me, but I wouldn't let him.

I took another deep breath and composed myself. "Thank you, Hank," I said, my voice hoarse. "I think I need to be alone to think about this right now."

He nodded as I turned to leave the room. I left without even saying goodbye.

I moved through the hall, to the elevator, the student's wing, all without a thought. I moved numbly. I didn't realize where I was going until I had stopped outside of a door and was knocking on it.

Logan answered.

He was wearing a pair of pajama pants and nothing else. He could obviously tell something was wrong with me immediately. I could feel it from him. See the concern on his face. "What's wrong, darlin'?"

"I need to talk to you."

He turned to go back into his room. He went to his bed, where Marie was sleeping, and whispered something to her. She nodded and replied back, giving him a kiss. He grabbed a white T-shirt from off the floor and pulled it on before coming back out into the hallway with me. He led me to my room and shut the door behind us.

"What do you need to talk to me about?"

"Hank said Tony and I broke up because I had a vision. I was pregnant and I lost the baby. Is that true?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"'Cause that's between you and De Luca," he said. "Why was Hank tellin' you that?" I didn't say anything. "Why was he tellin' you about that?"

I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "Because I'm pregnant," I said quietly. The words were starting to sink in.

He swore. "You and De Luca, you didn't…?"

"We didn't use anything, no. But it was just one time and I didn't think."

"All it takes is one time," he snapped, angry.

"I know that!" I yelled, my voice still hoarse, as my eyes filled with tears. "Why didn't you tell me about the vision before? If you had, none of this would have happened."

"Don't blame me. _You_ got in bed with him."

"I know! I get it! It was all my fault, I made a mistake, I'm sorry!" I yelled, tears flowing down my face. "Just please don't be mad at me."

He let out a breath. "I'm not mad at you," he said, walking over to me. He pulled me into his arms and held me. "I'm not mad at you, baby."

"I'm so scared."

"I know you are. But I'm right here."

"What am I going to do?"

He pulled away and looked down at me. He brushed a piece of hair out of my face. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. If I have an abortion, I'll always wonder if it could have made it. If something would have happened to change everything and it could have lived. But if I keep it…what if I loose it? What if I _do_ have a miscarriage? I don't know if I can survive that, Logan."

"You can survive anything. It'll hurt, yeah, but it's not gonna kill you. You gotta decide if you want a kid or not."

"I don't know. I really don't."

"Have you talked to Tony about it?"

I shook my head. "No, I just found out myself. Hank's the only person that knows besides us."

"Are you gonna tell him?"

I rested my head on his shoulder and continued to cry. "I don't know."

"What about Summers, are you gonna tell him?"

"I don't know," I said again. "I'm so confused, Logan."

He took me by the hand and led me over to my bed and sat me down. Then he sat down beside me. I was still crying and my body shook as I did. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks, marring my eyesight. Logan put his hand under my chin and pointed my face towards his.

"You think you can stop cryin'? Just 'til we figure out what you're gonna do." I nodded, wiped the tears away from my eyes and held the rest back. It took me a minute, but finally I stopped the tears from flowing. Blinking to clear my eyes, I sniffled. "Good girl," he said. "Now what're you gonna do?"

"I don't -"

"No, you're not allowed to say you don't know. 'Cause you do know what you wanna do."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"I want things to go back to how they were _before_ I slept with Tony."

"That's not gonna happen."

"It's what I want."

"But it _can't_ happen. It's not realistic, kid. Give me something _real_."

"I can tell Tony and Scott, but if I do, it changes everything."

"How?"

"It just…it does."

"Don't tell me it does. Tell me _how_."

"I don't want to be with Tony. But he's still in love with me."

Logan shook his head. "He's worse than a girl," he muttered. I gave him a look. "Yeah, it's not the point, I know. Keep goin'."

"He's still in love with me," I continued. "If I tell him that I'm pregnant with his baby, it's going to hurt him. And I've hurt him enough already."

"And if you don't tell him?"

"If I don't tell him and he finds out that I'm pregnant, that'll hurt him, too."

"So you're gonna end up hurtin' him either way."

"That's what it looks like, yeah," I said. "Tony _wants_ kid. If I tell him that his only child is going to die…I just can't do that."

"What if it doesn't die?"

"Then I'll have his baby."

"How do you think he'll feel about that?" he asked. I shook my head. "Don't say you don't know."

I took a deep breath. "I think he would probably be happy, I guess."

"What about Scott?"

I ran my hands over my face and tried to keep myself from crying once again. "Scott's different. I think he would be more upset that I lied to him about sleeping with Tony than anything. I'm in love with him and I want to be with him, but I can't expect him to stick by me while I have another man's child."

"Why not? He expected you to stick by him while Jean was pregnant. You've helped raise that kid more than anyone else."

"Yeah, but he was _married_ to Jean, it's different."

"No it's not. Jean slept with me, he knew that. He knew Lily might not have been his 'til she was born. He knew it and he didn't say a word to me or her about it 'til she was dead. He stayed with her and she wasn't in love with him. You are. If he doesn't wanna be with you if you tell him the truth, he's a bigger hypocrite than I thought."

"It doesn't matter if he's a hypocrite or not. My relationship with Scott depends on what I tell him right now."

He swore. "This isn't about him. This is about _you_. This is happenin' to _you_, not them. _You_ have to make the decisions, kid. You have to decide what's best for you and screw everyone else."

"Screwing someone is what got me in this place," I joked slightly. He smiled at me. I took another deep breath. "But I don't _know_ what's best for me. I'm sorry, but _I don't know_." I shook my head. "I'm not ready to be a mother. I don't know how to think like one."

"Do you _want_ to be a mother?"

"I don't -" He gave me a warning by raising his eyebrow at me. "Everyone's told me that I've never wanted kids. And I love Lily, she's a wonderful kid, but…I don't feel _motherly_ toward her. I don't feel that way about any of the kids here. What if I have it and I don't feel that way about it? What if I don't love it?"

"You will."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause something changes when you see 'em. It did when I saw you, it will when you see yours."

"What if I never see it, though? What if I _do_ lose it, Logan?"

"You tell me. What's the worst that can happen if you _do_ lose it?"

"Well if I tell Tony and Scott then -"

"No, what's the worst that can happen to you," he said pointing his finger in my chest.

"I would get depressed and go crazy."

"You're already half way there," he said. "But you'd still be alive, right?"

"Unless I get crazy enough to kill myself. In that case, I would be dead."

"You're not gonna kill yourself."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause I'm not gonna let you."

"Fine, so I don't kill myself. I live, but I'm still depressed, unbalanced, crazy. I become withdrawn and don't care about anyone or anything in my life anymore."

"Why?"

"Why? How about because I've lost something. A part of me has died and it hurts."

"A _part_ of you died, not _all_ of you."

"Yeah."

"You're still alive."

"But is my life worth living anymore?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're not the only person in your life. You've gotta stick around for me."

"I'm still scared."

"So what're you gonna do about it?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm going to go down to the station and tell Tony. Once I know his reaction, I won't have to worry about it. And when I get back, I'll figure out how to tell Scott. Then I can go from there. But there's no point in me planning what I'm going to do based on them."

"'Cause nothing ever goes accordin' to plan."

"Exactly," I said. I looked over at him. "While I'm gone, can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, what do you need?"

"Can you go down to Hank's office and talk to him? I was kind of short, I didn't have a chance to really ask him any questions. So can you see if you can get a list of stuff I should and shouldn't do while I'm pregnant? Like what I'm not supposed to eat and stuff. Maybe you can get a list of the most common causes of miscarriages, or something. If I'm going to do this, I need to do it right and make sure I'm giving this baby every shot at life I can give it, right?" I said. I let out a sigh. "Do you think you can get all of that for me?"

He nodded and leaned in to kiss my forehead. "Yeah, I can do that," he said. "Unless you want me to go down to the station with you."

I shook my head. "No, I think I should do this on my own. But thank you," I said. "I love you, Logan."

He pulled me into a hug. "I love you, too, baby."

* * *

After deciding what I was going to do, Logan let me cry for about twenty minutes before I finally got up and dressed to go down to the station where Tony worked. I wasn't feeling well still, so I pulled on a comfortable dress, my leather jacket and a pair of flip-flops, then I got in my car and left. Unfortunately I had to pull over twice to throw up. I couldn't tell if it was the morning sickness or my nerves.

Maybe it was both.

By the time I arrived at the precinct, I was ready to just get it over with.

I took the elevator to the second floor and made my way straight towards Tony's desk. He wasn't there.

"Hey Jayden, I didn't know you were coming down today," Dave, Tony's partner, said.

"It was kind of a last minute thought," I said. "Do you know where Tony is?"

"He's in the head."

"The head is the bathroom, right?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "Do you want to sit down?"

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks." I sat down in the chair at Tony's desk.

"Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale."

"I've been a bit sick today. I think I ate some bad Chinese last night, or something," I lied.

"Well I hope you feel better," he said. "How's everything going at the school?"

"Things are going well, thanks. How's your family?"

"They're doing good. Kelly's finishing up her last year of middle school. She'll be a freshman in high school next year. It's scary to think about how fast they grow up."

"I'm sure," I said with a forced smile. Hearing how scary it was to be a parent was the last thing I needed right then.

I saw Tony emerge from a door in the hallway. He spotted me and gave me a smile and started walking towards me. "Hey, what are you doing here? Did you come to swindle me into buying you lunch?"

"No, I came to talk to you about something."

"Okay." He stood in front of me with his hands at his waist.

"Can we go somewhere private?"

"Sure," he said. "Dave, can you cover for me for a few minutes?"

"Only because it's Rivers," he said, giving me a wink.

I smiled at him. "Thanks Dave."

I followed Tony as he led me to the roof of the station. My feet crunched the gravel as I walked across it. "Will this work?" he asked. "We used to come up here all the time."

I nodded. "Yeah, this'll work."

"So what do you need to talk to me about?"

I ran my fingers back through my hair and let out a deep breath. "Look, I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to say it, okay?"

Immediately his expression changed to confusion and concern. "Okay, what is it?"

"First, can you promise not to get mad?"

"Jayden, what's wrong? You're scaring me."

"Yeah, well, I'm scared too. Trust me."

"Tell me what's wrong."

I took another deep breath and let it out. "I'm pregnant," I blurted.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

"What?"

I looked up at him. "I'm pregnant," I repeated.

"With a baby?"

"Yes Tony, with a baby."

"Well, uh, when….when did you find out?" he stammered.

"Today. Less than two hours ago."

"Is it mine?"

"Would I be here telling you about it if it wasn't, De Luca? Who else's would it be?"

"I don't know. I don't keep track of your sex life."

"I don't _have_ a sex life. And I definitely won't now. Of course it's yours; I've not slept with anyone but you."

"So you're _really_ going to have a baby?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. The vision I had and broke up with you over, in it the baby dies, right?"

He nodded. "That's what you told me. But I thought that night, on Valentine's Day, you realized you were wrong about it. Otherwise why would you…sleep with me and risk it?"

"Because I _didn't_ know that's _why_ we broke up. Hank told me something that day and I thought that's what he was talking about, but it wasn't. I didn't know until today. When Hank told me I was pregnant."

"You didn't know?"

I shook my head. "No."

He ran his hand over his mouth. "Okay, so uh…so what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean what am I going to do? There's nothing _to_ do. I wait it out and hope that it can survive."

"And if it does, what are you going to do with it?"

"Teach it to roll over and play fetch," I said sarcastically. "I'm going to raise it. What else would I do with it?"

"I don't know. Give it up for adoption, or something?"

"I would _never_ put my child up for adoption."

"Sorry, I forgot that you were adopted."

"I know what it's like and I wouldn't put a kid through that," I said. "If I wanted to, would you _let_ me?"

He shook his head. "No, probably not," he said. "So how are you going to raise it? Do you want me to be a part of its life?"

"Do you want to be?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Even if we're not together, I'm still going to be the father. I mean, even if eventually you get married, it'll still be my baby, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "But I want you to be completely sure that you want to be involved because if you are, no matter what, it's going to be hard. If I lose the baby, it'll hurt you. If I don't and I have it, it's not going to be easy raising it separately like this. It's going to be the hardest thing either of us ever do. And it'll change our lives forever. Are you sure you want to do it?"

"People raise kids all the time separately. They get divorced, re-married, have other families and still raise their child just fine. We can do this."

"And what if it dies?"

He ran his hand over his mouth again. "Well, we'll do that together, too. I'll be there; I'll help you through it as much as I can. And whatever you need that I can't do, I'll call Uncle John and he can help. He can find you a great psychiatrist here in New York for you to see."

Tony's Uncle John was a psychiatrist, Dr. Lewis. I had had one session with him when I was eighteen. He had been one of the biggest reasons behind me moving to the school when I was younger because he had convinced my parents it would be the best place for me right then. He had paid tuition for my first year in college. He had been good to me. But I didn't need his help. Not that way.

"I live in a house with two very educated psychiatrists, if I need to talk to someone, I'll talk to them. But I think we both know that I'm not exactly one for…" I tried to think of the right word.

"Verbalizing your emotions?"

"Yeah, that."

"Well that makes two of us."

"What a pair we make, eh?"

He smiled at me slightly. "So have you had any symptoms or anything?"

"Morning sickness."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it started today, it's not good. I've spent most of the morning with my head in the toilet. It's pretty gross," I said. "Be glad I haven't had to throw up since we've been here."

"Well if you have to, do it over the edge."

"I'll puke on people's heads."

"It's New York, I'm sure they've had worse thrown on them."

"Is this how you're going to raise our child? To vomit on other people?"

"If they want to, then yeah. Would you rather do it on the roof and have…birds come attack us?"

"Why would birds attack us?"

"They eat it."

"They do not, that's disgusting."

"They eat their own crap."

"No, _dogs_ eat their own crap."

"I had a dog that repeatedly ate its own vomit."

"Just because _your_ dog was stupid, it doesn't mean they all are," I said. "Wait, why are we even talking about this? It's nasty. I really am going to be sick now."

He pointed to the edge of the building. "You can go over there, just don't barf on my shoes."

"You know, the _last_ time I barfed on someone's shoes, Logan killed them. So if you have a problem with me getting sick and spewing on your shoes because _you_ got _me_ pregnant, if Logan doesn't kill you, I will."

He laughed nervously. "I was, of course, joking. I can always wash my shoes off. I wouldn't want to piss off a hormonal, pregnant assassin. That would just be really stupid, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would be."

"Can I ask you a serious question?"

"As long as it doesn't involve crap and vomit, I don't care, man. Ask whatever you want."

"Scott Summers."

"Okay, that's _not_ a question," I said. "But what about him?"

"You're still in love with him, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"And he's in love with you still?"

"How do you know all of this?" I asked.

"You told me you were in love with Scott. I figured out he was in love with you. It wasn't hard really. It was pretty obvious."

"But you don't seem to have a problem being around him."

He shrugged. "I can't blame him for being in love with you, Jayden."

"And you have no problem with me being in love with him?"

"I knew how you felt before we started dating. If I had a problem with anyone, it was me. It was my fault," he said. "I just want to know how involved he's going to be in all of this."

"I don't know."

"He didn't say?"

"I haven't told him yet."

"You haven't?"

I shook my head. "No. Like I said, Hank only told me not even two hours ago. The only person I've told aside from you since then is Logan."

"How did he take it?"

"Surprisingly well."

"Did he threaten to kill me?"

"No. And now that you mention it, that's pretty surprising, too."

"Well how do you think Scott's going to take it?"

I let out a sigh. "I'm not real sure, to be quite honest. I'm not even sure how I'm going to take it once it really sets in."

"How did he take it when you told him about, you know, when you slept with me?"

"I never told him."

"You didn't tell him?"

"No. I didn't think _this_," I pointed to my stomach, "would come out of it. So I thought it would probably be best if I didn't mention it."

"Do you want me to go with you? I mean, do you want me to be there when you tell him?"

"No, that probably wouldn't be a good idea," I said.

"Why not?"

"Have you ever seen Scott lose his temper?"

"Kind of. I've seen him argue with Logan before."

"Not the same. Scott can _literally_ kill you with a look. Being there when I tell him I'm pregnant with your baby probably isn't a good idea," I said. "But thanks."

"What are you going to do if…"

"If he decides he doesn't want anything to do with me now that I've been knocked up by some other dude?"

"Yeah."

I let out another sigh and shrugged my shoulders. "I have no idea. I'm sort of figuring this all out as I go along. I wasn't really planning on it, you know?"

"When are you going to tell him?"

"When I get home, I guess. I don't know what I'm going to say, but I'll have to think of something."

"Well, whatever he says, just know that you're not going through this alone. We're in this together. If you wake up at four in the morning craving something like…pickles and ice cream, you can call me. I'll go to the store and buy it and bring it to you. Promise."

"First of all; ew, I would never eat pickles and ice cream. And second; that's very sweet of you. Thanks."

"So maybe you aren't going to start craving pickles and stuff. Is there anything you _are_ craving?"

"Nachos. Actually, _any_ really cheap, bad Mexican food. But nachos mostly."

"How about I take my lunch break right now and buy you some?"

"Tony, why are you doing this for me?"

"Because I still love you and you're the mother of my child. I've always wanted nothing more than to take care of you. Nothing's changed about that. You just have to decide if you want to let me take care of you."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me, I'm good. But this baby…yeah, I'm going to need some help. And I would really like you to be there."

"Good, I will be," he said. Then he walked over to me and pulled me into a hug. "You can make it through this, Jayden. I know you can."

I hugged him back. "I hope you're right, Tony. I really hope you're right," I said.

And then I had to throw up.

* * *

"Have you thought of any names yet?" Tony asked as we sat in a Mexican restaurant not far from the station.

"I think it's a bit early to be thinking up names."

"When will it be time?"

"Hank said I lose the baby at around three months in the vision. So if I can make it through the first trimester, maybe everything will be okay. Then I'll start thinking about names and stuff. Right now my focus is just being healthy. I don't care about anything else."

"Am I allowed to tell anyone?"

"I would prefer it if you didn't. Like I said; I just want to make it through the first trimester. If everything goes okay after the first four months, then you can tell whoever you want. I don't care."

"You're about a month along right now, right?"

"Yeah."

"So we have to wait three months?"

I nodded. "Yep," I said, taking a sip of my water.

"This is going to be the longest three months of our lives," he said, his voice somber.

"Thanks for being so up beat De Luca. I appreciate it," I said sarcastically.

"Sorry, but aren't you freaking out a little bit? I know I am."

"To be quite honest, I'm trying not to think about it."

"How's that working for you?"

"Well Dr. Phil, it would be working a lot better if you didn't keep reminding me of how freaked out I _should_ be," I said. "If I go to all of my doctor's appointments and do everything they tell me, I can take care of myself and it, but I don't have to…get emotionally attached. So when I lose it, it won't be that hard."

"_If_ you lose it, not when," he said. "I can't tell you how to feel Jayden, but you have to _try_ to be positive."

"Yeah, you're right. I'll stay positive. I'll go out, buy a bunch of baby stuff, start thinking up names, get a nursery ready so that when, sorry '_if_', I miscarry, I'll sink into a deep, dark depression I'll never be able to recover from. _Brilliant_ idea, Tony," I said in a mock cheerful tone.

"Thanks, I went to college to be this smart," he joked, throwing his straw wrapper at me.

"Are you saying I'm not smart since I didn't go to college?"

"You went half a semester," he said. "Besides, you're street smart."

I laughed. "Yeah, I'm mad street, yo."

He smiled at me. "You do know that this baby is going to be beautiful, right?"

I smiled back at him. "I still don't remember everything, I'm working on it, but you know one of the things I _do_ remember about you is that since we've met, you've been trying to get me to have kids with you. What's up with that?"

"We're both gorgeous, smart, talented people."

"And modest."

He laughed. "Yes, modest. Plus you're very moral -"

"Wait, did you say I was moral? Tony, do you _remember_ what I do for a living?"

"But you do it for a good reason."

"Yeah, money."

"No, you take the money because you work hard to do your job, and you do it well."

"I guess I'll have to find something else I'm good at, because I can't do that anymore if I have a kid," I said. "But then again, according to my bank records, I'm probably set for life."

"A million isn't that much."

"Okay, you tell that to the people making twenty-thousand a year. I'm sure they would gladly take it and wouldn't complain one bit about it not being all that much."

"That's not what I'm saying. My dad came to America poor, he worked hard to get what he had and he taught my brother and me to appreciate what _we_ had," he said. "I'm trying to say that you wouldn't be set for life with that much. But it doesn't matter because I'll be paying child support, so it's not like you'll be supporting it all on your own."

"How much do guys have to pay in child support these days?"

He shrugged. "No idea. Three or four hundred a week, I guess? Maybe more."

"Can you afford that much? I mean seriously, dude, they don't pay you a whole lot to be a cop. Definitely not what you deserve for what you do. Plus you have to pay rent on your disgustingly expensive apartment."

"My apartment is disgustingly expensive because it's in a good part of town. Something you'll appreciate when the baby gets here," he said. "And I do just fine with my pay check, thank you."

"You didn't have enough money to get a new car a couple of years ago when you wanted one."

"Why is _that_ what you remember about me?" he asked.

"I don't know. I can't help what I remember."

"Well I've gotten a raise since then, so it doesn't matter."

"You don't have to pay three or four hundred dollars a week. That's a lot of money."

"Well kids _cost_ a lot of money, Jayden. Babies are expensive," he said, his voice mocking.

"Would you know this from _personal_ experience, Tony?"

"No, I only get my step-sisters pregnant."

"I feel so special in a very back woods, white trash way. Thank you."

He grinned at me. "You're welcome."

* * *

"How'd it go with De Luca?" Logan asked, appearing from his room as I was walking towards mine.

"Can you keep it down? I don't want Scott to hear you."

"He's not here."

"Where is he?" I asked, stopping in front of his door where he was standing.

"He took the kid somewhere. To see some stupid cartoon movie, or something," he said. "Did you get to talk to Tony?"

"Yeah."

"What'd he say?"

I nodded to his bedroom. "Can we go in there and talk about it? If some student wanders down here, I'd rather they _not_ hear us talking about it."

He opened the door and allowed me to walk into the room. I went straight to his bed and sat at the foot of it. I looked around me. His room was as neat as mine, maybe more. The bed was made in a typical military style. You know, where the blankets are tucked tight enough to bounce a quarter of them? That's how his bed was always made. He had a bookshelf, nightstand and dresser and everything on them was impeccably placed. Nothing was out of order.

I had asked him once _why_ he kept his room the way he did. That, no offense, but he seemed more like the kind of guy who would be a complete and utter slob. He told me that he had moved around so much in the fifteen or so years before moving to the mansion, he didn't have much. He had to keep his baggage light so as not to weigh him down. He didn't have much, so he took care of what he did have. Since living there, it was a habit he hadn't bothered to break.

My reason was just that I was crazy.

"So you told Tony?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"And what did he say?"

"He said he was going to help me out as much as possible. He was going to be there to support it."

"So better than you thought, considerin' you were afraid you were gonna hurt him by tellin' him the truth."

"Well I wasn't sure _how_ he was going to react. I haven't really been through this sort of thing before."

"You'd better not have."

"If I had, I'm sure you would have known and I think I wouldn't be quite as freaked out as I am right now," I said. "So you can't blame me for being nervous about how he would react."

"Did I say I blamed you?"

"No, you didn't. But can we for two seconds pretend that I'm not some cold hearted, super solider assassin and that I'm just a normal twenty-six year old that made a stupid mistake and got pregnant with a man I'm not in love with and I'm just a little bit scared. Can we do that, please?"

"I don't know; it's gonna be pretty hard to pretend your normal."

"You're a jackass."

"And you still love me."

"Yeah, for some very odd reason, I do," I said. "But you're going to suck at being a grandfather."

"Why? I don't suck at bein' a father, do I?"

"No, but see; with kids, you can't scream and swear at them like you do me. They don't understand that you're a cranky old man."

"I'm not cranky."

"Dude, you're the crankiest man I've ever met," I said.

"You don't remember half the people you know. How're you so sure I'm the worst?"

"I didn't say the worst; I said crankiest. Big difference," I said. "But that's not the point. How did we even get on this subject?"

"You started it."

"No I didn't."

"Yeah you did."

"No and I'm not arguing with you about it. I need _real_ advice, Logan. I need to know what to do."

"About Summers. How do I tell him about all of this? I don't know how to say that I'm pregnant."

"You say it. It ain't that hard."

"That's what she said."

"What?"

"Nothing," I said. "You had a couple of wives that were pregnant, right?"

"Yeah."

"How did they tell you?"

"I don't remember."

"Well you really aren't any help, dude. When I told Tony, he bought me lunch."

"He's the father; he should be buyin' you more than just freakin' lunch."

"And you're _my_ father and I need some advice. I need to know how to tell Scott."

"Use your gut. What's it tellin' you?"

"It's telling me I have a kid growing inside of it," I said. "It's not telling me anything. My instincts, my intuition, none of it's working. And I'm scared that I'm going to say the wrong thing and screw everything up."

"Well there's only _one_ thing to tell him, so how can you tell him the _wrong_ thing?"

"Okay, so maybe not the wrong thing. I'm scared about saying it the wrong way."

"Why do you have to tell Scott right now?"

"Because if I don't, I'll lose my nerve."

"So? Why do you gotta tell him at all?"

"Because he loves me and I love him."

"Then you should be worried about what he's gonna do. If he loves you so much, there's not gonna be a problem."

"My life isn't that easy. I don't know if it's complicated because I make it that way or if it's just like that on it's own, but I don't know how he's going to react and _that's_ a problem."

"Then fix it."

"Okay, since it's just so easy. Why didn't I think of that?" I said sarcastically.

"Stop complainin'."

"What is wrong with you? Why are you so freakin' mellow man? I'm having a melt down and you're acting like, all calm and stuff. It's weird."

"I'm too old to get all excited over everything you do," he said, letting out a sigh. "Whinin' about this isn't going help, is it?"

"I don't know."

"That's it; you're not allowed to say that anymore," he ordered.

"You can't tell me I'm not allowed to say that. I can say it all I want."

"No you can't. You say it again and I'll do what I did to you the first time I told you not to say it anymore."

"Which is what?"

"Bend you over my knee and wear you out. You couldn't sit down for a week. This time I'll make it two."

"You can't do that."

He cocked his eyebrow at me. "Keep pushin' me and see, kid."

"I'm not pushing you. You told me to stop whining and asked if it would help and I said I don't know. That's it."

"But the point is, you _do_ know."

"Okay, fine, it won't help. Whining will accomplish nothing. Are you happy?"

"No. Now figure out what you're gonna do instead of complain' about it."

"I'm going to tell him."

"How?"

"I don't -" He gave me a warning look and I let out a frustrated yell. "I haven't decided," I said, suddenly feeling an overwhelming surge of anger.

"Don't get pissed at me, that ain't gonna help either," he said. "You gotta make a plan. Sittin' around talkin' about it isn't gonna work. Either don't do it and shut up, or make a plan and put it into action. But talkin' about it and gettin' mad at me isn't gonna fix anything. So _you_ have to."

"This isn't some mission Logan. I'm not plotting a course of action so that I can make a hit on time. Or something stupid like that."

"It's the same thing."

I ran my hand over my face and let out a breath. He was right; it was the same thing. "Okay. When did Scott leave?"

"About twenty minutes ago."

"Did he say if they were going to do anything other than see a movie?"

"Lily said she wanted Chinese food, so I'm sure Summers'll take her. Kid's spoiled."

I took another breath and stood up. "Okay, look, I'm going to go to my room, put my pajamas back on and take a nap. Then when I wake up and Scott's here, I'll take him aside and tell him I need to talk to him. Then I'll just tell him. I'll be completely honest and put it all out there. And how he reacts is up to him. I can't do anything to change how he'll react, so there's no point in me worrying and wondering about it. Right now I feel exhausted and I can't think straight. Maybe when I wake up it'll be a bit better," I said. "Sorry if I bothered you."

I started walking towards his door and he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. "You're not botherin' me, you know better than that. I'm tryin' to keep you thinkin' real and rational," he said. "If I'm bein' hard on you, it's 'cause I know you can do better. You're smart and you can think on your feet; you just gotta start doin' it."

"I know, but…I _don't_ know. I still don't remember everything. I'm still having a hard time. I'm not _that_ Jayden anymore. I remember you and I remember living here with you, but only when you were taking care of me and pretty much just babying me. It's hard to remember that but have to deal with you how you treat me now. I know you do it because you want me to be strong and I know I can be. But the problem is, I don't ever remember the transition between the two. So to me it seems like you went from being nice to me to pushing me. And that's a little hard to get used to."

"_You_ told me to stop treatin' you like that. You said it made you too dependent on me. You wanted me to do this."

"Logically, yeah, I get that. But _emotionally_ it's a bit different because I don't remember it. And unfortunately for all of us, my emotions are going to be even more out of whack of the next three months."

He let go of my arm. "You don't think you're gonna be able to keep it?"

"Honestly?" I asked. He nodded. "No, I don't."

"Why?"

I shook my head. "Mother's instinct."


	11. You Always Hurt The One You Love

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to either X-Men or Marvel. I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter, though.

* * *

I was sitting on the deck of a ferry, in the middle of the night, leaning against Tony's shoulder. We were on our way to Rome from a small island off the coast of Italy. It was dark and cold and we were both tired. After boarding we had found a spot by the railing and sat down on the deck. Tony had fallen asleep almost immediately, snoring in my ear. But I didn't care. I was used to his snoring. I just snuggled up against him and tried to keep the wind off my face.

We were almost done with our four hour ride when I felt the ferry shutter. Tony didn't move. The shuttering didn't stop, it only got worse, and I could hear a horrid scraping sound.

I shook Tony. "What?" he asked sleepily.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Something's scraping against the boat. Can't you feel it?"

He blinked and looked around. "Yeah, what is that?"

"I don't know. We're not docking are we?"

"No. A ferry doesn't do this when it docks. It doesn't shake like this and it definitely doesn't sound like this."

"Then what's wrong?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, the screaming began. People with panicked voices yelled things I didn't understand in Italian. But they were scared and that's all I needed to know.

Tony stood up and I followed him. As I stood, I saw the large, jagged rock sticking out of the ocean. The side of the ferry was still scraping against it.

"Oh crap," I muttered in disbelief.

The ferry gave a final violent shake as the end where we were standing scraped against the rock as the boat passed it. Tony grabbed me, held me to him, and grabbed a hold of the railing, trying to keep us from falling. The people around us were still yelling but now they were running and sounding more panicked.

"What are they saying?" I asked.

"The captain's gone, they can't find him and the rest of the crew," he explained, translating the Italian.

Images flashed across my mind. "They're in a room under the ferry. They're playing poker," I said. "What are the other people saying?"

"A couple of them are saying there aren't enough lifeboats."

"What?"

"There aren't enough lifeboats for everyone."

"Are they sure?"

He listened to them for a few more seconds before looking back down at me. "I don't know. But that's what they're saying."

"What are we going to do? If people find out there aren't enough boats they're going to panic, they'll get desperate and it'll get crazy."

"Don't worry, baby, we'll be fine."

"We have to get off. We're going down fast."

"That's what she said."

I gave him a look. "Did you get that out of your system?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now how much time do you think we have before we sink?"

He shook his head. "The Titanic took four hours to sink."

"It was also one of the biggest boats in the world. This is a ferry that can only hold less than three hundred people."

He let out a breath. "I think we'll be lucky if we have an hour."

"So what are we going to do?"

"We're going to stay calm and think."

Both of us were quiet for a few minutes as we thought. Tony still held me to him with one hand while he clung to the railing with the other. I held onto him tightly and tried to think as calm and rationally as possible.

'_What would Logan do?_' I wondered.

"We've been on here for nearly four hours, we can't be too far from land. If we can stay afloat for another hour, we may not need the lifeboats."

"What are you thinking?"

"The crew isn't doing anything, so we're going to have to. If we can get to the captain's quarters, you can radio for help and give our coordinates while I try to find some flares. We can set them off to help them find us better. If we stay calm maybe we can help everyone else stay calm, too. Even if there aren't enough lifeboats, we can at least make sure everyone has life vests."

"Assuming that there _are_ enough."

"Well, if there isn't, maybe there'll be enough for the people who can't fit on the boats. If we can radio for help, maybe they can get here before we even need them."

He nodded. "All right, let's find the captain quarters."

Together the two of us fought our way through the crowds of screaming, panicked, people until we found the captain's room. We tried getting in, but the door was locked. I didn't have anything to pick the lock and was about to punch through the door's window when a man pushed Tony and me away, then shouted at us. Tony yelled back at him and I didn't understand a word of it. When their exchange was over, Tony took my hand and pulled me away quickly.

"Who was that and what were they saying?" I asked.

"He's part of the crew. He said we weren't allowed in the captain's room."

"Did you tell him if the freakin' captain had actually been where he was meant to be, none of this would have even happened?"

"Yes, I did. He didn't care. He told me nothing was wrong and to go back to the deck."

"Something is wrong. We're not stupid. Did you tell him we were just trying to get help?"

He looked back at me. "He had a gun, Jayden. I'm not going to get shot over it. He told us to go back to the deck, so we are."

"Screw that. Where do they keep the life vests?"

It took us a few minutes, but eventually we found the boxes that help the life vests. When we threw the lids open, they were empty.

"There's no vest," I said. "What kind of crappy boat is this?"

"A cheap one," Tony answered.

I looked down at my watch. "We've been running around for fifteen minutes. Assuming we have a full hour before we sink, we only have forty minutes left. If we're going to come up with a plan and get everyone to follow along with it, we have to do it now before everyone starts panicking even worse," I said. "So what're we going to do?"

"Traditionally woman, children and older people get on the life boats and the men and crew stay on board."

"The crew is abandoning ship," I said. "What if the rest of the people don't agree with that?"

He let out a sigh and shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "But I'm not putting your safety in jeopardy to help them. If they don't want to listen to us, they don't have to, but I'm getting you off here as safely as possible."

"Tony, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but you're still not going to put your life on the line for any of them," he said. "As soon as I can, I'm going to get you off this boat."

"What if I don't want to?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I'm not leaving this boat without you."

"If you have to, you will."

"Why?"

"Because I tell you to."

"What if something happens to you, Tony?"

"Nothing's going to happen to me, baby. I'll be fine." He grabbed me and pulled me to him. "We've both been through worse than this. We're not going to let a stupid boat screw everything up for us. We're going to get off this thing, get to Rome, get on a plane and go back to New York and start planning our wedding. We're going to get married and get old together."

"You already _are_ old," I joked, though I was still scared.

"We're going to get _older_," he said. "And we're going to live happily ever after. Whether we like it or not."

I laughed, fighting back nerves. "What if you die before me? I won't be so happy."

"We'll take poison and die together like Romeo and Juliet."

"Juliet's poison was fake, she didn't die you jerk. You're going to be dead before me no matter what."

"We'll split the same poison."

I held onto him tighter. "And I thought you talking me into jumping off that stupid bridge and bungee-jumping was going to be the scariest thing that happened today."

"It's going to be. You got through it and we're going to get through this. It's just a little water."

I pulled back to look at him. "It's the ocean, Tony. There are _sharks_."

"I won't let the sharks near us."

"And how, exactly, do you plan on keeping them away."

He put his mouth to my ear. "I'm a mutant too, remember? You're not the only one with powers," he whispered. "I'll use my geokinesis; I'll build a wall around you. _Nothing_ will hurt you. It's my job to protect you and I promise I will."

"I'm still scared."

"I know, but everything's going to be okay. You've done scarier things Jayden. You jump off buildings, you jump out of airplanes, you jumped off a bridge _today_. You can live through a ferry sinking."

"I know I can, but can you?"

He gave me a smile. "Is that a bet, Miss Rivers?"

"Yes it is. And if you actually live through this, you can start calling me Mrs. De Luca."

His smile grew and he brushed his hand across my cheek. "I like the sound of that."

"Then let's not pull a Jack and Rose and have you freeze and fall to the bottom of the ocean and force me to live the rest of my life alone."

"Well as long as we don't hear any Celine Dion music playing, I think we're safe."

"If I hear Celine Dion, I may just very well kill myself."

He bent down and kissed me, then took my hand in his. "Let's go see what we can do to get off this thing."

Together we walked as calmly as possible back into the chaos. All of the passengers were still running around crazily, yelling. Tony tried gaining some control over the crowds, telling them he was 'Polizia', but they didn't listen.

And as the end of the boat where we had originally been sitting began to dip into the water, hoisting the other end into the air, the passengers started filling the lifeboats and putting them in the water. We tried to stay calm and rational, but it was hard. Everyone was running around the ferry, pushing into us. I could feel all of the energies coming from them, all of the panic and fear and desperation. It ran through me, overwhelming me, paralyzing me. I couldn't move. I stood still until Tony, his hand firmly grasped on my arm, pulled me in the direction of the backend of the boat.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

"This end's going to sink last. We can hang onto the railing longer down here."

"Tony, we can't hang onto the railing forever. We'll sink eventually."

He stopped and looked down at me. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes, I trust you."

"Then follow me and do what I tell you to."

Without further hesitation, I followed him to the end of the ferry. We clung to the railing, our muscles burning as we fought to stay put for as long as possible. We made it about twenty minutes. As the boat continued to take on water at an alarming rate, we both were hit with a sudden realization: The rock had scraped along the whole left side, and even though to begin with the boat seemed to be sinking only one tip at a time, it was no longer doing that. The left side was filling with water.

The ferry wasn't going to sink; it was going to capsize.

"Okay, so maybe we aren't going to pull a Titanic. This is more like the Posiden Adventure," Tony said as we continued to cling to the railing.

"I hated that movie."

"Me too." He gave me a nervous look. "Jayden, we have to jump, okay? You can do that, sweetie. You're a fantastic swimming, you're not going to have any problems, okay?"

I looked over the side of the boat into the inky black water. I could hear its waves splashing against the ferry, lapping at the rock, and pushing the lifeboats into both.

I could hear people screaming. The ones on the ferry, but mostly the ones who had fallen into the water or had been pushed by panicked passengers. The ocean swelled around them, pulling their bodies under with each new wave.

If I jumped, would I be as lost as them?

I looked back up to Tony. "Whatever you do, don't leave me, okay? Don't let me lose you," I said.

"I won't. Just hold onto my hand and don't let go."

"Okay."

"We'll go on three. Take a big breath before we jump and remember; don't let go," he said. "Are you ready?"

"You jump, I jump, right?"

He smiled. "I really hate that movie, too."

I smiled back nervously. "Yeah, I'm ready."

We climbed over the railing where the tip of the boat was sticking up and looked over the edge. It was a forty foot fall. Not enough to kill you, but enough to hurt.

"One. Two. Three."

I took a deep breath, held onto Tony's hand tight, and jumped.

We hit the water hard. It hurt and it was cold. It felt like a million tiny daggers being stuck all over my body. Over and over and over. I wanted to gasp, but I fought the urge off. If I did, I would lose my breath, inhale water and risk draining. The pain, the cold, none of it mattered. Just the feeling of Tony's hand in mine.

When we didn't break the surface of the water, I opened my eyes. The saltwater stung them. I couldn't tell if we were right side up or upside down. I let out some of my breath and watched as the air bubbles floated up past my head.

We were upside down.

Tony's eyes were opened too and saw that we were going the wrong way. Without a second's hesitation, we changed direction. Just as my lungs were burning for air, we came up to the surface of the water. I took in as much air as I could and waited for Tony to catch his breath. Then, without a word of prompt, we began swimming in the opposite direction of the boat. I could make out a few lights from shore and we swam towards them.

We had to fight our way through the water for the first fifty feet. Drowning passengers grabbed onto us, trying to stay afloat, even if it meant killing us. I swallowed water as a man twice my size lunged himself at me, clinging to my back. Tony l tried pushing him off. Five minutes of struggling and he was able to pry him from my back. Once we had broken through into clear water, I let go of Tony's hand and we swam.

The shore was at least three miles away, but neither of us stopped for a second. It would be the death of us, we knew it. There was no where for us to rest. We had to keep going forward; we had no other choice. And I refused to drown to death only three miles from safety, no matter how tired I was.

It helped to block out the sounds of the other passengers screaming as the ferry capsized, the pressure pulling them under and killing them. It helped. Just not enough.

I put all pain out of my mind. I focused my thoughts on something else. Like how I was possibly going to convince Logan to wear a suit to give me away in my wedding. With thoughts like that, I took my mind away from the seriousness of the situation and was able to stay focused on my mission: Getting to land.

It seemed to take forever, like we were swimming and swimming and getting no where for all our effort, when the sun began to rise. As it started casting light to the world around us, I saw the beach.

With our goal in plain sight, Tony and I pushed our bodies to their limits and swam harder and faster. I had never felt anything more glorious than when my feet touched the sand. Exhausted, my legs shakily carried me as I walked as far as I could before collapsing on the beach. Soon Tony joined me.

We laid beside each other, panting, freezing, covered in salt water and sand. Pain coursing through our limbs. Half way still clinging to terror, unable to believe what he had just escaped. And relieved that we had.

"You know what?" Tony asked, still gasping for breath.

"What?"

"Asking Logan if I could marry you was still scarier than that."

We both laughed until we cried. It wasn't that funny, but lying on a beach less than three miles away from and ocean grave that had claimed more than a hundred people, we realized we were still alive and that was amazing.

* * *

I woke feeling groggy. My head was hurting and I desperately wanted a cup of coffee. But caffeine was on the list of things Hank said I couldn't have. Along with hotdogs and sandwich meat. Those I didn't care so much about. I just didn't know how I was going to survive without coffee.

I got out of bed and contemplated getting dressed. But I decided against it. I didn't feel good but my pajamas made me feel better, so I left them on. I slipped on a pair of house shoes, twisted my hair back up in a clip to get it off my neck and left my room. I walked straight down to Scott's door and knocked on it.

I put every negative thought…_any_ thought actually, out of my head. If I was going to keep my nerve, I couldn't think about what I was doing.

Plan.

Prepare.

Action.

That's what I was trained to do. As an X-Men, as an assassin, as a person. You made a plan, you prepared for it, and then you put it into action. No more thoughts about it.

So that's what I did.

I knocked on Scott's door twice before he answered, smiling at me as he did.

"Hey, where have you been hiding? Lily and I went to a movie, we were going to see if you wanted to go with us, but Logan said you were gone."

"Yeah, I went to see Tony. He ended up taking me for lunch."

"Did you have fun?"

"I guess, yeah." I took a deep breath. "I need to talk to you, would that be possible?" I asked.

"Yeah, absolutely," he said as I saw Lily go dancing behind him. She was wearing a grey T-shirt with Elvis on it, a bright pink tutu and combat boots.

"Can we talk privately?"

He nodded, understanding what I meant. "Yeah." He turned around to find Lily. "Hey baby doll, do you want to go tell Aunt Rogue about the movie? She said she wanted to see it too, remember?"

"Yeah, good idea, daddy!" she said enthusiastically, talking to him as if he were her age. "Bye Aunt Jayden!" she called, bounding past me."

"That should keep her busy for a good ten minutes," he said. "Do you think we can talk in that much time?"

"I hope so," I said, walking into his room.

"If we still need to talk when she gets back, I'll send her down to Xavier's. She wants to throw me a 'surprise' party for me, even though I know all about it, and she has a list of plans for him. I can't believe he's entertaining the idea of funding a party planned by a six year old."

"Chuck's a good guy."

"Yeah he is," he said, closing the door behind me. "What did you need to talk to me about?"

"Did you know I was on a ferry that hit a rock and capsized when I was in Italy? Tony and I survived because we jumped from the boat just before it flipped and swam three miles to shore."

He nodded. "Yeah, I did know that. You wouldn't get on any kind of boat for the longest time after it," he said. "Did you just remember it?"

"Yeah, I was taking a nap and had a vision of it while I was asleep."

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? To see if I remembered it?"

"Uh, no, not quite. I was just wondering if I had ever told you about it."

"As far as I know, you tell me pretty much everything you do or have done. You haven't kept anything from me in a while," he said. "Or at least nothing that I know of."

He smiled at me. I hated his smile right then. It was so sweet, honest, trusting. And I had done nothing to earn it.

"Scott, that's what I need to talk to you about. There's something I _did_ keep from you."

The smile dropped from his face. "What?"

"I want you to know I didn't lie to you to hurt you. It was the complete opposite. _I_ made a mistake and I didn't think it was right to make _you_ pay for it. So I didn't tell you."

"Just tell me what it is, Jayden. You can apologize for it later if you feel like you have to. But tell me what you did."

"I made a mistake. It had nothing to do with you. You didn't do or _not_ do anything that made me make the decision -"

"Jayden, just _tell_ me," he said, cutting me off. His voice was soft but firm.

"Do you remember on Valentine's Day when I went to Tony's?" I asked. He nodded. "I lied when I said that I fell asleep on his couch during the movie and decided to stay there for the night."

I saw his jaw tighten. "What really happened?"

I crossed my arms, pulling them in close to my body. "I…" Deep breath. "I slept with Tony. And it was a huge mistake, it didn't _mean_ anything, I swear. But it _did_ happen."

He didn't say anything immediately. He just stared at me and ran his hand over his mouth. "Why are you telling me this now? Why didn't you tell me a month ago? Or why even tell me at all?"

I took another deep breath and felt my throat start tightening. "Because I found out this morning that I'm pregnant," I said.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant," I said again.

"_You're_ pregnant?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Hank did the test. He ran it like five times. He's positive." He didn't say anything. He raised his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Scott, I'm _so_ sorry. All of it was a big mistake. I don't know what else to say other than that."

"Then don't say _anything_."

"I know you're probably pretty mad at me, but -"

"I'm not mad at you," he said, interrupting me. He put his glasses back on properly and looked at me.

"What?"

"Jayden, I'm not mad at you."

"Why not?" I asked confused. "You should be furious. How can you not be mad?"

"I didn't say I wasn't mad. Just that I wasn't mad at you."

"I'm sorry. I really just don't know what else I can say."

"_Why_ did you do it? You said it wasn't because of me, so why?"

Despite my training to just put my plan into action and do without thinking, my chest tightened. It hurt to breathe. "I was lonely. I wanted to feel wanted." I shook my head. "I was being selfish."

"_I _didn't make you feel wanted? _I_ made you feel lonely?"

"No, you never -"

"Then why did you have to go to him?" he asked, cutting me off.

"I _didn't_ go to him. He was there and it just happened."

"It didn't _just_ happen. You said you were lonely and didn't feel wanted. How long had you felt that way? How long did you let it build up before he was there and the one you turned to?"

"It wasn't…it wasn't like that, Scott."

"How was it? Explain it to me so I can understand. What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't _do _anything wrong. None of this was your fault."

"Then why couldn't you come to me? Why didn't you tell me what you needed or how you felt?"

"You wanted to wait."

"No, you _asked_ me to wait. You said you needed time. And I had no problem with that. I love you and I'll wait for you however long you want me to. But how can you say you need time and push me for Tony when you get lonely?"

"I didn't push you away from him. He was just there."

"He was just there. It just happened. That's a lot of coincidences for someone who doesn't believe in them."

"It wasn't a coincidence. The circumstances I put myself in without thinking allowed me to make this mistake. I didn't go over there with the intentions of sleeping with him. That was the furthest thing from my mind."

"It may have been the furthest, but it was still there."

"Tell me what you want me to say. Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me and I'll do it," I said. "I don't know what you want."

"There's nothing you can do, Jayden. It's already done. You can't change it."

"I know," I said. "And I'm _so_ sorry."

The door flung open and Lily came stomping in. "Logan said Aunt Rogue's not here, she went with Aunt Ro."

"Okay honey, go find Uncle Chuck. He wants to know what you've planned for my party," Scott said.

"I don't want to. I want to stay here. I want to play my new game."

"I know sweetie, but daddy's having a conversation right now and I need you to be a big girl and give me some time to talk, okay?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted "No, I don't want to. Why can't I stay here with you and Aunt Jayden?"

"Because we're having an adult conversation. Go find Charles or take your new game down to Uncle Hank's office."

She stamped her feet. "No!"

He took a deep breath and let it out. "Lily, I'm serious. I'm going to count to three and if you don't listen to me, you're going to be in a lot of trouble. Do you hear me?"

She didn't move.

"One."

She stayed still, her arms crossed.

"Two."

She pouted more, looking up at him from under her furrowed brow.

"Three."

She kept her stance as Scott finished counting and began walking over to her. He picked her up and she swung her arms and legs, punching and kicking at him as he carried her into her bedroom, which connected to his.

"You're going to stay on your bed for six minutes, no talking, no playing, no messing around. If I find out you got up, you'll sit for another six minutes," I heard Scott say. "I'm having a _very_ serious conversation with your Aunt Jayden right now Lily and I need you to listen to me and be a good girl while we talk."

"I want to go see Hank," Lily said. I could tell she was crying.

"You can go see him in six minutes. Right now you're going to sit still and be quiet. And I don't want you to cry, either. I gave you the option to listen to me and you decided not to. You picked to get punished. You can't cry if _you_ chose it."

"I'm sorry, daddy."

"I know you are, but you're still in trouble."

"But I love you!" she said, continuing to cry.

"I love you too, baby. This has nothing to do with that. You know if you don't listen to me you get in trouble. You didn't listen," he said. "Stay in here until I tell you to come out."

He left her room and closed her door before walking over to me. He stood right in front of me, looking me in the face, and didn't say a word. But he didn't have to. I could feel everything he was feeling. I had hurt him. Badly.

All of his emotions began to eat away at the wall I had put up and before I could stop myself, I was crying. And I don't know why, but Scott pulled me to him, into his arms, and held me.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I said, whispering in his ear. "I love you."

His hold on me tightened as he pulled me even closer to him. "I love you too, Jayden."


	12. It's All Coming Back To Me Now

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. But I really hope ya'll are enjoying the story so far. Let me know what ya'll think.

* * *

After a week of headache, backaches, hurt burn that _never_ went away and morning sickness that happened at all times during the day and made me wonder _why_ it was called 'morning' sickness, I went to see Xavier

He had known I was pregnant since the day I had found out. Hank had told him. But in the entire week I had known, we hadn't spoken about it. So I went off to find him and seek his safe advice, or at least some mental block to keep the heart burn away.

I made my way downstairs and to the Professor's office. I knocked on the door and he called for me to come in.

"Hey Professor, are you busy?" I asked.

"No. Do you need to speak with me?"

"Yes, sir. Do you mind?"

"No. Would you like a seat?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

I sat down in one of the arm chairs in his office, tucking my bare feet up under me. He moved his wheelchair to sit in front of me.

"What can I help you with today?" he asked.

"Hank told you I was pregnant, didn't he?"

"Yes he did. I wasn't sure if you would like me to congratulate you now or wait for a few months."

"Probably best to do it later. Don't want to count my chickens before they hatch, you know?"

"Do you believe that your vision is going to come true still?"

I let out a sigh. "It's weird. Like, I don't _remember_ the vision, but yeah…I have a very strong feeling that whatever I saw in that vision, it's going to come true. I think I will lose the baby." I ran my hands back through my hair. "I just can't believe I let this happen."

"You didn't know."

"That's not really a good excuse. Logan made me promise not to…_do_ anything, if you know what I mean?"

He gave me a small smile. "Yes, I do."

"Well Logan made me promise him that and I did, but I broke that promise and I screwed up."

"You didn't have enough information to make a proper decision. Had you known, you may not have allowed your hormones and emotions to carry you away."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I guess I'll never know, eh?"

"Perhaps not. But whatever the outcome of the situation, you will survive."

"I'm just not so sure that's a good thing," I said with a short smile. "Did you ever want kids, Professor?"

He returned my smile. "Yes. And I have about five hundred of them now."

I laughed. "Well that worked out pretty well for you, didn't it, Chuck?" I said. "But did you ever want to get married and have kids of your own?"

"At one point, yes."

"What happened?"

"It wasn't meant to be."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I am where I'm meant to be."

"And a lot of people are grateful for it, including me. You give everyone the opportunities they deserve but can't get themselves. Most of these kids here would be living on the streets if it wasn't for you. I have no idea where it the world I would be. I probably don't want to know."

"I'm sure you would have done just fine," he said. "But that's not why you came here, is it?"

"Not quite, no." I ran my fingers through my hair. "I was wondering if you could do some weird, mental block mojo kind of deal that will keep me from having heartburn? Or throwing up, maybe?"

He laughed. "I'm afraid that's affected by your hormones, not your mind. There's nothing I can do for that."

"I didn't think so, but I thought I'd ask just in case," I said. "Is there anything you _can_ do to help me?"

"Not right now, no. Perhaps when the time comes I can help ease the pain."

I nodded. "I would appreciate that." I relaxed back in my seat and pulled at my oversize T-shirt. At five weeks in, my pajamas were pretty much the only things that fit me. "Did your parents live long enough to see what you did with their house?"

"No, they both passed away before I was out of university."

"Do you think they would've been proud of what you did?"

He nodded. "Yes, I do believe so."

"Do you think…do you think Logan's proud of me? I mean, even after everything that I've done?"

"What have you done?"

I smiled. "You're psychic; I think you _know_ everything that I've done. You know what kind of a job I have. Or _had_, rather. I haven't had a job in _months_, I don't know who I work for and I'm not even exactly sure what it is that I do aside from, you know, killing people." I took a deep breath. "Do you think _my_ father is proud of _me_ for the choices I've made in my life? Or the life I've made for myself?"

"While I neither condone nor condemn your choice of profession, I know and believe that Logan loves you unconditionally and yes; he is proud of you."

"Even for getting pregnant by a man I'm not married to, not in love with and who happens to be my adoptive step-brother? I mean, _that_ would even make Jerry Springer's head spin."

He let out a small laugh. "I wouldn't know much about him, but I don't believe that's affected Logan one bit," he said. "But you need to decide if you're proud of your life and what you've done. As Oscar Wilde once said, 'Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.'"

"I still don't remember enough about my life to know if I'm proud of it or not. I hate not being able to remember," I said. I looked at him. "Isn't there anything you can do to help me get my memories back? All of them?"

He let out a sigh. "Yes, there is. But what I would have to do to make you remember would be too much on you. Especially since you've remember so much already. Give it time, Jayden. Give yourself time to heal from whatever it is that your mind is running from."

"But what about when I lose this baby? What if everything that I've worked to remember just gets screwed up because I get hurt again? What if my mind doesn't _ever_ recover from this? What if I never get all of my memories back? I'll go mad thinking about all of the things I _think_ I know, but just can't quite…get to, you know? It's about driven me man already."

I felt the heartburn burn stronger in my chest and moved to try to make myself more comfortable. But no matter how I was situated in the chair, it didn't help. It all hurt. After a few seconds I gave up and let out a sigh.

"It's like when you have a dream and wake up and the details start slipping away. The long you're awake, the more you try holding onto them, but the harder you try, the faster they slip away. And soon all you have is this very vague memory of what it all was," I said. "I don't want to keep living my life like some forgotten dream. I _can't_ live like that."

"You won't have to. Everything will be just fine."

"Is that how you foresee my future or an attempt to comfort me?"

"Both. I, unfortunately, don't know the details of your vision. You told very few people and I was not one of them, so I can't assure you that it will or will not happen the way you saw it. I can assure you that as I said before, I will be more than willing to help ease your pain mentally as possible. I also know that you have survived many things without going mad. I have good faith that this will be one of them. It _will_ hurt, yes, but it won't be impossible to get through."

"It's going to hurt a heck of a lot."

"Most things in life do," he said. "All the ones that count anyway. As John Calvin once said, 'You must submit to supreme suffering in order to discover the completion of joy,' I quite agree with him."

"It still sucks."

He laughed. "Yes it does."

I let out a sigh and stood up. "Well, I guess I better let you get back to what you were doing. Thanks for talking to me."

He gave me a warm smile. "You're more than welcome. I'm here anytime you need to talk."

I smiled back at him. "Thank you," I said.

I left his office and walked back upstairs. I really wanted to talk to Scott, he and I hadn't had a lot of time to talk since our initial discussion about me being pregnant. I was trying to give him time to adjust; I just didn't know how long he would need. I wanted to talk to him, but he wasn't there. He had taken Lily somewhere for the weekend, so he wouldn't be home for another day.

I was going to go to my room, but when I came to Logan's door, I decided I wanted to see him instead. I pressed my ear to the door and when I heard only one person breathing, I knew he was alone and I could go in.

So I did.

He was still in bed, sleeping. He was on his back, twisted slightly in the covers, with half kicked off the right side of his body. I looked at him and marveled at how peaceful he looked.

As I gained my memories back little by little, I had remembered the things that had been done to Logan. The horrible, nightmarish things that most people would never be able to recover from. And yet he had. It didn't matter how hard they tried to turn him into an animal, they failed. Because even if he wasn't always a _nice_ guy, he was a _good_ one. He did what was right. Most of the time, anyway. He had done right by me. When I found him, he had taken care of me. And he had in all the years since then.

I walked into his room and closed the door as quietly as possible. He didn't even flinch at the sound. I moved closer and finally climbed in bed beside him. I lay my head down on an extra pillow and pulled the covers up around me. After a few seconds, Logan cracked open one of his eyes and looked at me.

"What're you doin' in here?" he mumbled.

"Felt like being close to you."

He gave me a sleepy smile. "Why the heck would you wanna do that?"

I laughed. "Because for some strange reason, I kind of like you, furry-face."

"You'd be the only one."

"Yeah, I am," I joked.

"Well if you wanna be close, get over here." I scooted closer to him in bed until I could rest my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, one holding me to him, the other lightly resting on my head. "Did you just get up?" he asked, stroking my hair softly.

"No, I got up a bit ago. I went down and talked to the Professor."

"What'd you talk about?"

"I asked if he could put some of his psychic mojo on me and stop my morning sickness and heartburn. Unfortunately he said those weren't mental, they're hormonal, so he can't do anything about them," I said. "But he told me whenever I lose the baby, he can help ease the pain from that. The mental ones at least. I don't know if it'll physically hurt or not."

"McCoy said it depends."

"That's reassuring," I said sarcastically.

He laughed, causing my head to bob as his chest rose and fell. "Well it wouldn't make if Hank said it did or not. You always find a way to be difficult."

"And yet you still love me."

"I am crazy, kid."

I smiled. "That's true."

I closed my eyes and took in deep breathes, matching the rhythm of Logan's breathing, and relaxed into his touch.

Before the accident, before all the memory loss, I had meditated. I did it every morning when I woke up and every night before I went to bed. I hadn't practiced it in the few months since forgetting, but right then, right there, that morning; that was my meditation. Just being with Logan, knowing that he loved me completely and unconditionally, it gave me the peace to quieten everything and just breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

There were no sounds, save for our breaths going in and out and our hearts beating. There was no real movement, just him gently stroking my hair.

I had my eyes closed, so there were no sights.

And when I was with him, my mind settled, so there were no annoying thoughts or worries. No visions trying to break through.

My mind was clear and I could breathe and everything felt fine.

We lay like that for about ten minutes before I felt him tense up. I raised my head and looked at him. "What's wrong?"

"Shh," he said. I went quiet and listened intently. Nothing. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

He lifted his head up from his pillow and lowered it down towards me. "Heartbeat," he said simply.

"What? Are you surprised I have one?" I joked.

He gave me a look. "Not yours," he said. "The baby's."

"What?"

"It just started. You can't hear it?"

I shook my head. "No. Are you sure that's what it is? Maybe it's just my stomach growling."

"Your stomach growl in rhythm?"

"Probably not, no," I said. "But are you sure it's the baby's heartbeat? I didn't think it started this early."

"It ought to. Hank said it's already got fingernails."

I looked down at my stomach. "Fingernails are one thing. But a heartbeat makes it seem so…_real_."

"It _is_ real."

"I know. But…I guess because I've tried to stay as unattached as possible, I don't realize how real it all is." I let out a breath. "I don't like thinking about it. It scares me."

He kissed my temple. "I know. But you're gonna get through it."

"That's what the Professor said."

"The Professor's a smart man," he said, brushing the hair from my face. "Just lay back down and try to get some more sleep. When we wake up again, I'll take you and buy you breakfast."

I did as he said and placed my head back on his chest and closed my eyes. I was scared but I knew that as long as I was with Logan, I would be okay. I would be safe. So I allowed myself to drift off to sleep with the knowledge that with him, nothing could hurt me.

* * *

I watched myself as I paced around my room. Walking from one end to the other, staring at the cell phone in my hand. I looked as if I were trying to will it to ring. And when it finally did, I didn't seem too surprised.

"I've been waiting two freakin' hours for this phone call, Connors. I _do_ actually have a life outside of this job; I don't have time to just wait around for you to decide to do your assignment and finally freakin' call me. I don't even want to know what the crap took you so long; I just want you to give me my sit-rep," I ranted angrily to the person on the other end of the phone. "Do you think you can do that?"

"I'm not giving you your sit-rep; it's being sent in a folder to you at your house. It should arrive in the next ten minutes if it hasn't done so already."

"You sent a sit-rep through the _mail_? What kind of a moron are you? All it takes is for the postman to misread _one_ number and it can fall in the wrong hands. How in the world did you get to be a senior agent?"

"It's being hand delivered by a currier," the man, Connors, said. His voice sounded completely unaffected by my insults. He had obviously heard them quite a few times.

"And this is a _trusted_ currier? It's not some dude you grabbed off the street?"

"Yeah, I trust him."

There was a knock on my door. A few seconds later it opened and Scott poked his head in. "Sorry if you're busy," he said. "But someone just delivered an envelope for you. He said it was urgent."

I walked over to him and took the envelope from his hand. "Thanks," I mouthed to him, waving him away from my door before closing it. "Really reliable currier there, Connors. He just dropped off my sit-rep with one of the teachers here. Glad to know he can be trusted," I said sarcastically.

"Can this teacher be trusted?"

"If you're asking do I think he _looked_ in the envelope? No, I don't. And he's obviously more trusted than your stupid currier," I said. "As much as I would love to just stand around and talk to you, I need to read this report and actually get on with my life. So I'm going to hang up now."

I flipped my cell phone closed, walked back to my bedroom door and locked it before going over to my bed. I sat down and opened the envelope, pulling out the folder. I opened it and looked at the contents. A three page write up of a mission where I had taken out a target and the events that followed in the two weeks after were included with a note at the bottom with instructions to shred immediately after reading. But I didn't.

On the page across from the report was an information page with a picture attached to it. I paid more attention to it than the other.

'_Name: Angelina Polnichezch _

_Age: 23_

_Hair color: Black with red streaks_

_Eye color: Brown_

_Tattoos: Six. A cross on the back, a devil and an angel sitting on shoulders, 'Wild Card' on her forearm, 'Patient 326 County Psych-Ward' on her lower back, an infinity symbol on inner left wrist, initials 'AP' behind right ear._

_Piercings: Seven in each ear, from top of cartilage to bottom of lobe. Nose on left side. _

_Known markings: Scars on right shoulder from bullet wounds._

_Background: An only child of an alcoholic mother and drug addicted father, grew up mostly on the streets in Boston. Moved to New York City at age 17 with 30 year old boyfriend. Broke up shortly after moving. Started breaking into houses to steal things to pawn at 18. Did a year in jail for breaking an entering and robbery at age 20. After her release she began working on the streets, taking up prostitution.'_

There was more, but I didn't read it. Instead I took the picture from the folder and held it up close so I could see it clearly. The young woman looked angry. Her black and vibrant red hair hung in her face. It was chopped short, but not short enough to keep it out of her eyes, which were rimmed with a dark black eyeliner that was smudged. She was wearing a short black leather skirt, torn black fishnet stockings, heavy motorcycle boots, a black T-shirt with a red leather jacket zipped up over it all.

The girl was me. She had been one of my aliases when I had gone undercover. The sit-rep showed that no one had connected my presence with the death of a priest implicated in the molestation of over fifty boys. It had been two weeks since I had killed him: All evidence that there was, the very little of it, had been destroyed. My mission had been accomplished and I could finally shred my latest identity.

I stood and grabbed a black Sharpie and scissors from my desk before going back to my bed. I used the Sharpie to make over all of the words, blacking them out. Then, patiently, I cut the papers into thin, confetti size strips. When I was satisfied that it had been destroyed well enough, I took all of the strips to the bathroom and flushed them down the toilet.

The only thing left was the picture.

I went back to my room and got down on my knees to pull a box out from under my bed. It was a gray fireproof box with a combination lock keeping it locked tight. But I spun through the numbers with ease before the lock made a 'click' sound and fell open. I removed it from the box before lifting the lid.

There, in the box, were dozens of photos. I didn't stop look at them, I just added the picture of Angelina to the pile before closing the lid and locking it back. I slid it back under my bed and moved a storage box in front of it.

I sat back against my bed and closed my eyes. I was tired. Tired of lying, pretending, _killing_. I did my job because I knew that I could help protect people who needed it. I could save others from getting hurt further by the people I killed. But who was going to save me?

I had put my life, my relationships, my family, all of it on the line for a job. A job I was good at. A job I believed in. But a job that was destroying everything around me.

One more hit, I decided, and then I was done. I would retire and get a proper job.

I was alone and tired of being that way. I wanted my life back.

* * *

I woke and immediately sat up.

"Whoa, where you goin'?" Logan asked as I climbed off his bed and started for his door.

"I just remembered something."

"What?" he asked, standing up and following me as I left his room for mine.

When I got to my room, I went straight to my bed. I bent down on my knees and lifted the blue bed skirt. I saw the storage box and moved it. There was the grey fireproof box. I pulled it out and looked at the lock. I didn't have to remember the numbers to know the combination: It was on my wrist. They were Logan's numbers; 45825243. I pulled off the lock and put the box on my bed. I sat down beside it before slowly lifting up the lid.

I picked up the stack of pictures and began going through them. As I did, the aliases, the cases, and the memories started coming back to me.

_Miranda Crawley, age 30, bank accountant. Blue eyes, black hair cut into a bob with bangs. Dressed in black suit, grey tie and glasses. Target was a 35 year old woman and owner of a hotel who had killed her husband and blamed it on her eldest son who was convicted then committed suicide. _

_Sydney West, age 23, heiress to a family fortune in Sweden. Hazel eyes, blonde hair. Dressed in short white sequined dress, hot pink platform shoes. Target was a 25 year old man who had killed a 16 year old hooker and had his father, an ambassador from Germany, pay off the mother not to tell._

_Abby Levin, age 22, only child of rock musicians from Australia. Black and pink hair cut into a faux hawk, green eyes. Dressed in black and pink dress, matching stripped scarf, black and pink fur coat, fishnets, high heeled boots. Target was 35 year old man who had held 'open auditions' for teenage bands and proceeded to rape nearly 60 kids. _

_Grace Maitland, age 27, children's book writer. Short, brown curly hair in semi-afro, brown eyes. Wearing green slip dress, brown sandals. Target was a 65 year old man who had kidnapped, tortured, raped and murdered 16 girls as research for a book._

_I went through photo after photo, each one bringing more and more memories along with it. Then I got to the last one and it all came back to me. Every memory. I remembered it all._

_Carrie Miller, age 20, oldest of six kids. Saving money to go to school to become an elementary school teacher, strawberry blonde hair to her shoulders, green eyes. Wearing an orange long sleeve top, blue jeans, sneakers. Target was a 40 year old man who had killed three of his wives for money and was engaged to a forth woman_.

"I remember," I muttered, the pictures dropping from my hands. They fell, scattering on the floor as I felt a sudden sickness grow in my stomach. "I remember."

"_What_ do you remember?" Logan asked.

"Everything, everything. All…I remember all of it." I wrapped my arms around my stomach and shook my head as I let out a long string of swearwords. "You lied to me. You lied."

"What?" he asked, looking at me with a furrowed brow.

"You _lied_ to me!" I shouted, standing up to look at his face. Angry tears formed in my eyes as I stared into his.

"About what?"

"You said I never used a gun!" I yelled.

He looked down at me. "You're gonna have to calm down. I don't know what you're talkin' about it."

I looked down in the floor and searched for the picture of me wearing the orange shirt and picked it up. I shoved it in his face and pointed at it. "This mission, I was gone for two weeks. I was posing as a nanny for a man in Rochester. He had killed three of his wives and was engaged to a forth. I was sent to kill him."

"You were sent to kill a lot of people."

"But you said I never killed anyone with a guy. This mission I did."

"So?"

I threw the picture across the room and continued to cry, both in anger. "I was a live in nanny. Sarah was nine, David was six and Colleen was five. I took care of those three kids for two weeks. I played with them, I gave them baths, I put them to bed at night and read them stories. I made a mistake, I made a _huge_ mistake, and I let myself get close to those kids. I cared about them. I fell in love with them, Logan. And they loved _me_."

"They loved who you were pretendin' to be."

"It doesn't matter."

"What happened?"

I took a deep breath, wiping my tears away. "I took them to school. David and Colleen went first, then Sarah. After that I went to the grocery store and bought stuff for dinner. The agency made up my resume and wrote I could cook. It's a bunch of bull, everyone knows I can't, so I had to buy pre-cooked crap and make it look like I had cooked it. I bought some sort of lasagna, but it didn't matter, because no one was going to eat it. The plan was to kill him while the kids were at school. I was going to make it look like a break in gone bad. I had to use a gun that mission."

"Did something happen to make you forget?" I nodded. "What happened that day that made you forget, Jayden?"

I swallowed hard, trying to fight off my tears long enough to talk. "I came back to the house, put everything away, and went to check on Mr. Laughlin. He was on the phone talking. His back was to me. I hated to shoot him in the back, it's cowardice, I know, but it was the only option I had. As soon as he hung up, I opened fire. It wasn't until he fell down that I realized David had been standing in front of him. The bullets went straight through Mr. Laughlin's chest into David's head. He was dead before he ever hit the ground. Kid never had a chance."

"You said you took him to school. He wasn't supposed to be there."

"He had been sick all the night before. Throwing up, diarrhea, fever, chills, the whole thing. I tried talking him out of going, but it was Show and Tell and he didn't want to miss it. So I took him. He threw up all over his classroom in the first thirty minutes of being there and his teacher called Mr. Laughlin to come get him. So he did. And I had no idea."

I ran my hands through my hair nervously. Every memory I had lost was suddenly back and I felt overwhelmed. Overloaded. I could remember but I didn't want to. I didn't want those memories of all the pain I had caused and suffered by killing that little boy. That sweet, innocent child that had trusted me more than his own father. I wanted to forget it all again. Wipe it away from my mind, erase it. But I couldn't. It was all back like it had never left me to begin with.

"I haven't been taking a break from my job; I quit. I retired. I was going to do one last job, that was going to be it. But I screwed up. I just wanted to get the job over with so I could be home for Christmas break. I had shopping I needed to get done. That's all I was thinking about. I was tired of being Carrie Miller. I had never been undercover that long before. I just wanted to be home with my family."

"You made one mistake in four years. It was bound to happen."

"But why did it have to be _that_ one?" I cried. "He was just a baby."

Then suddenly the memory of my vision returned. I saw myself in a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown. A man, a doctor, tells me that I've lost my baby. And with the damage that was caused, I would never be able to get pregnant again.

I cried harder, tears falling as all the pain resurfaced. My heart ached in my chest as I once again clutched at my stomach. My baby was going to die, too. I didn't know how, but with renewed certainty, I knew it _was_ going to die.

"My baby's going to die because I killed that boy," I said. "That's my punishment. It's all coming back on me. This is all my fault. If I had just quit when I had the vision, none of this would have happened."

Logan pulled me to him in a hug, wrapping his big arms around me and holding me to him. I didn't fight him; instead I wrapped my own arms around him tightly. I pressed my face into his chest and sobbed. My heart hurt and my stomach continued to turn.

I had recovered most of my memories of Logan, but right then I remembered everything and I knew that I needed him more than ever. I knew that he was the only one keeping me standing. Making me breathe. Keeping me from hurting any more than I was.

"Shh," he whispered in my ear, soothingly. "Just calm down, baby. Calm down. None of this is your fault."

"Yes it is."

"No it's not. You know sometimes crap just happens. You can't stop it just 'cause you see it. You _know_ that."

"But it hurts. Everything hurts. I remember it all and I just want to forget it. I want it to go away."

"It's not goin' to. None of it's gonna go away. You gotta get through it."

"I don't want to," I said, as if I were a little child.

"You've suffered enough, darlin', so you gotta stop beatin' yourself up over it. You made you mistake, you paid for it, there's nothing else you can do."

"I lost my memory, that boy lost his life. It's not the same," I said. I pulled away from him and wiped at my tears. I suddenly felt like a completely different person since my memories were back. "How do I fix that? Because I have to, so I need a plan. How do I make this right?"

"You can't. He's dead."

"Yeah, I know. But his sisters, Sarah and Colleen, _they're_ alive. I killed their father and brother. They're orphans because of me. So where are they?"

"I don't know."

"No, but Tony will. He can find them for me," I said, moving to find my cell phone.

Logan grabbed my arm, stopping me. "What're you gonna do if he _does_ find 'em?"

"I don't know yet. But I feel like I need to find them. Wherever they are, they're there because of me."

"You made a lotta kids orphans, what's different about these?"

"I only kill adult. I kill people who deserve it. Twisted, evil people who had something very seriously wrong with them. That's not murder; that's thinning the herd. It's picking off the sick people who only contaminate the rest of us. The kids I made orphans were better off that way because their parents were disgusting beings," I said. "These kids…they suffered because their brother died. And he was innocent and had nothing to do with what his father did."

"You can't bring him back from the dead."

"No, but I can make their lives easier."

"How?"

"Like I said; I don't know yet. I need to get all the information about them as I can, then I can make a plan and put it into action," I said. "But right now I need to call Tony. So get out."

"I think I liked you better when you didn't remember me enough to get an attitude with me," he said, giving me a smirk and wink.

"And I liked you better…well, I've actually _never_ liked you better."

"Good to know."

I let out a sigh, pushing my hair back off my face. "All right, seriously, get out of my room. I need to talk to Tony and it's going to be a difficult enough conversation with him without you listening in and making snide remarks about everything he says."

"I don't do that."

"That's bull crap, yes you do," I said. "But I'm serious; if I don't call him right now, I'm going to start crying again and we both know once I get started, you can't get me to stop."

He nodded and pulled me back to him with my arm he still had a hold of. He gave me another quick hug before placing a kiss on my forehead. "You need me to do something, you let me know, you hear me?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I hear you. And I will," I said. "I promise."

He gave me another kiss, letting his lips linger on my forehead. "I love you, darlin'."

I put my hand up to his face, the hair from his muttonchops scratching against my palm. "That's one thing I _never_ forgot," I said. "And I never forgot that I loved you, too."

He stood there for a moment, just holding me to him, before giving me a final squeeze and letting me go, then leaving my room. As soon as he did, I found my cell phone and immediately called Tony's. After three rings, he answered.

"De Luca, yeah?"

"Tony, I need a favor."

"Hi to you too."

"Yeah, hi, whatever. I need you to find someone for me. Two someones, actually. Can you do that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Then sure, I have all the time in the world to search for random people. Just give me a name, or two, or whatever."

"Sarah and Colleen Laughlin. They're from Rochester."

"Ages?"

"Nine and five."

There was a pause. "Is this for the school? Because I thought Professor Xavier found all of the students?"

"He does. This isn't about the school."

"Then why are you looking for these two kids?"

"Professional ties."

"Professional…professional how?"

"I did a job for their father?"

"You did a job for their father or their father was the job?"

"Does it matter?"

"No," he said. "Why do you need to know where they're at?"

"Because our ties have become more personal?"

"_How_ personal?"

I let out a sigh and kicked at one of the photos in the floor. "I did something on that job that changed their lives forever. I need to find them so I can figure out how to fix what I've done."

"How do you know what you've done?"

"Because I remember."

"Remember what?"

"Everything."


	13. Just One Shot

Disclaimer: I honestly don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. Because if I did, I wouldn't be on a desperate search for a job right now. I do hope ya'll enjoy this chapter, though.

* * *

"So when you say you remember everthing, what do you mean?" Tony asked.

He had just picked me up at the house and I was riding in his car, staring hard at the yellow lines on the road in an attempt to keep from getting sick.

"I mean I remember everything. I'm not real sure what you don't understand about that. It's kind of self explanatory, don't you think?"

"Well I just…I don't understand. How did you go two and a half months without remembering anything, then all of a sudden, in like, one day, remember _everything_?"

"I actually got it all back in less than five minutes."

"How? What happened?"

"I had a vision this morning. I saw a box of pictures I kept of me dressed in disguises from my job. When I woke up, I got it out. As I was looking at the pictures, it all came back."

"Do you remember what made you forget in the first place? I mean, Hank said it wasn't from being hit in the head with that rock, right?"

"Yeah. My brain was protecting me from a memory, so it suppressed them all," I said. "Unfortunately when I got them all back, I got the bad ones, too."

He took his eyes off the road long enough to look over at me. "So what happened that made you forget?"

I took a deep breath. "I don't really want to talk about it, Tony. Not now."

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing. I want you to pull over so I can throw up."

"What?"

"Pull over!"

He pulled his car over to the side of the road and I flung my door open. I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Thirty seconds later, I had my head buried between my knees and was barfing up leftover Mexican food. A few seconds later, Tony was behind me, holding my hair back.

"Nerves or morning sickness?" he asked.

"Both," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"What are you nervous about?"

I looked up at him, trying to catch my breath. "Do you ever stop?"

"No. I'm a detective; I'm supposed to get to the bottom of things."

"You're not getting to the bottom of things; you're just annoying me."

I stood up and looked around us. Cars passed us by but no one else was really there. "Those two girls I had you find, Sarah and Colleen, I did a job where their father was my target," I said. "He had killed his first three wives and was about to get married again. I was posing as a nanny and took care of them and their five year old brother for two weeks. After taking the kids to school, I went to the store and then back home. I met up with an agent who gave me a gun and told me to make it look like a break in. I know _how_ to use a gun, you know that. You know I'm an excellent shot. But I had never used a gun on the job."

"Why?"

"They're too messy. Guns leave so much evidence, _too_ much evidence. Generally on jobs, I got to decide how I wanted to kill the person. A knife, poison, my hands. But on this one, I was told how to do it. So after I got back from the store, I found him in his office and killed him."

"You've killed over fifty people as part of your job alone. Why would you block out the memory of killing him?"

"Because his little boy David was standing right in front of him when I pulled the trigger. I didn't just kill him; I killed his son, too. I murdered a kid. Two weeks later I'm in an accident and a rock hits my head, or so I've been told because that I don't actually remember. But the two together caused my memory loss."

"Logan would have known you would have taken that hard. It would have been traumatizing. Why didn't he tell you about it?"

"Because I never told him."

"But you tell him everything."

"I didn't tell him this."

"You confess to him, though. How could you not have told him?"

"I didn't get a chance to confess. Logan was away with Rogue. She had talking him into going to some place up in the country, just the two of them for a vacation. When he came back, he was immediately sent on a mission with Storm and Bobby. They came back, it was Christmas and you know how much I love it and I didn't want to ruin the mood. The week between then and New Year's Eve was just hectic. I was going to confess eventually, but when it was appropriate and convenient," I said. "Then everything got screwed up and I never got the chance."

"What are you going to do?"

"The two girls, you said they're living with their grandparents. You said they were contemplating putting them up for adopting because they couldn't afford to take care of them, right?"

He nodded. "That's what my source told me, yeah."

"Why do you insist on calling him your source when you're with me? We both know it's your buddy Lance from the FBI."

"Because it's safer to refer to him as my source," he said. "But that's not the point. What are you going to do with the information?"

"I was paid twenty thousand dollars to kill their father. I was paid even though I screwed up my job," I said, looking him in the eye. "When I would take out a hit, I would get paid for my time, my effort. For the fact that I was one of the few people in the world who could do what I did, as good as I did it, for as cheap as I did. I worked and I got paid. But this…" I watched as a red car drove past us with a little boy in the backseat. He was playing with a Superman action figure. "Tony, this was blood money. And it doesn't belong to me."

"Are you going to give it back to the agency you work for?"

"No, I'm going to give it to the girl's grandparents. They can use it to take care of them. They deserve it."

"They would have been living with their grandparents whether you had killed their brother or not."

"But they wouldn't have suffered half as much."

"No, you're right. But the grandparents would have struggled even more. One extra person to take care of? The strain of that may have caused them to send the kids to an orphanage even sooner."

"So I did a _good_ thing by killing that kid? Is that what you're saying, Tony?"

"No, you made a mistake; you made a very big one. I'm not about to tell that what you did was okay. I'm not going to make excuses for you. You screwed up. But you can't change the situation, Jayden. So if they were going to end up somewhere like an orphanage where you used to live, don't you think it would be better if one less of them had to suffer through it?"

"I don't know, Tony. I really don't know. I _remember_, I just don't know," I said. "I know that giving them money isn't going to make it all right. But it's the only thing I can do. So I'm going to. If you have any better ideas, let me know, because that's all I've got."

He shook his head. "No…no, it's a good idea. It's a very nice thing to do."

I scoffed. "Nice, yeah, that's me."

"I guess there's only one thing left to do."

"And what's that?"

"Find you a bank."

Twenty minutes later we were standing in line at Luttford View Bank.

"This is going to take forever," Tony said, peeking at the person at the head of the line. They had a bag full of loose change they wanted counted and turned into bills.

"It's called patience, De Luca. Do you have any?"

"No, not today."

"Why? Do you have a hot date or something?"

He smiled. "Would you be jealous if I did?"

"Not in my current situation, no. But on another day, perhaps."

He kept smiling. "No, I don't have a date. I'm just hungry. I was thinking about getting some barbeque for lunch. Want to join me?"

"Are you paying?"

"You know, one of the things my mother did teach me was to never ask a woman out if I didn't intend to pay for her."

"Have I mentioned how much I _love_ your mother?"

"Not recently."

"That's because I didn't remember her."

He flashed me another smile. "Good reason," he said. He looked at our long line once again. "I have an idea. Follow me." I did as he said and followed him to the front of the line.

"Hey, get back in line, buddy," the man with all of the change said.

Tony pulled out his badge and flashed it at the man and then the teller. "I'm Detective Antonio De Luca, NYPD. I'm aware of the fact that there's a very long line and I'm sure you've been very busy today, ma'am," Tony said to the teller. "But it's extremely important that we withdraw our money as soon as possible."

"I understand that detective, but there's a line. And you have to wait like everyone else," the teller said to him. She was a portly woman with graying black hair. She looked very tired.

"Right, but it's going to take thirty minutes or more if we wait in line and we need to withdraw this money _now_."

"May I ask why?"

"It's classified."

"NYPD doesn't keep classified information from the public," one of the men waiting in line said.

"That's not the point," Tony said.

"Then what is?"

"Well, the point -" I cut Tony off by grabbing his arm. "What's wrong he asked?"

"Something's about to happen," I whispered.

"What?"

"Something bad?"

The second the words left my mouth, a group of six men came storming into the bank. All were masked and all were holding guns.

"Everyone get down on the ground! Down on the ground!" one of the men shouted, waving his gun at us. Everyone listened immediately, dropping to the ground. But Tony and I hesitated. The man pointing the gun aimed it directly at us. "Get down!"

Tony reached for his gun, but it wasn't there. He looked at me, suddenly panicked. "Whoops."

"Typical. You leave your toys at home when they're needed."

The man walked closer to us. "Do you hear me? I said get down!"

"I can take them, Tony," I whispered. "There's only six of them."

"They have guns."

"So?"

"So…so they have _guns_. I don't know what you're not getting about that," he hissed.

"I can't do it."

"Not in your state."

"What's my state?"

"Pregnant."

"I'm going to blow your freakin' head off if you don't get down!" the man shouted, spit flying from his mouth.

"I'm sorry, she's slow, I have to explain what's going on to her," Tony said to the man, putting his hands up. I threw my elbow back and hit him in the gut. "I think she understands it now."

"I can't lie on my stomach," I said. "Do you have a problem with me lying on my back?"

"Why? Do you have a tummy ache?" he asked, mockingly.

"No, I'm pregnant. If I lie on my stomach, it can hurt the baby."

"Do I look like I care?"

"I can't tell. You're wearing a mask."

"You really _are_ frekain' slow, aren't you?"

"Yes, she is. But she's shutting up now and she's going to get down on the floor," Tony said, pushing me down to my knees, the kneeling down beside me. "Lie on your side if you have to, but down piss them off," he whispered to me.

"Why?"

"Because I tell you not to. And I don't feel like losing you today, Rivers. Do you understand me?"

"I understand but -"

"Then shut up and listen to _them_. No buts."

I laid down on my stomach and immediately felt uncomfortable. It wasn't right. I shouldn't have been lying that way. But I didn't move. Tony kept his hand on my back, holding me down.

No one moved except for the men robbing the bank. They, along with a manager, moved to the back of the building to empty out the vault. Only two of them stayed in the main room, aiming their guns at the people on the floor, sweeping them around every few seconds, making sure no one moved.

Then a cell phone rang.

A man tried to silence it.

One of the gunmen got jumpy.

The bullets tore through the air and the man's skull. The room erupted into screams of terror as we all realized that the men were inexperienced and dangerous.

Blood poured from the man's body, his head all but gone. Flecks of gore, bone, brains and blood covered the hostages that surrounded him. They cried out loudest. A few began to vomit.

"What happened?" one of the men who had been in the vault asked, running into the room.

"His phone rang," the shooter answered, sounding stunned.

"Everyone, throw your cell phones in the middle of the room. Now!" the other man shouted.

Tony reached for his, but I didn't. "Give them your cell phone," he whispered to me. "You're not going to die over a dumb phone. I'll buy you a new one."

"If I keep it, I can use it to text someone and have them call the police."

"And they can _kill_ you before you ever get the chance."

"But it's the only chance we _have_."

"I don't care. These guys are jumpy. Do what they say until I can figure out a plan."

"I've already got one."

"Is there a problem?" the man who had come from the vault asked. He was standing right in front of us.

"No, sir. We were just getting our phones," Tony answered calmly.

"Really? Because it doesn't look like it," he said. Roughly he grabbed Tony and pulled him up to his feet. He pulled back his suit jacket, revealing his cell phone and police ID and badge. He took his ID from his pocket and flipped it open. "Detective De Luca, is it? One of New York's finest wasn't trying to be a hero and call for help was he?"

"No, sir," Tony said.

"Then what were you doing?"

"I was trying to get it off my belt so I could give it to you."

"Is that right?"

"Yes."

He pointed the gun at my head. "What about now? Is that still the truth."

"Yes. She had nothing to do with this. Please move your gun."

"What were you two talking about?"

I looked into the dark barrel of the gun as I waited for Tony's response. "She's nervous. I was just calming her down. I was telling her to listen to you and your men."

"Sorry, but I don't buy it." He took the butt of his gun and rammed it into Tony's nose. Immediately it began to gush blood as his nose was broken. Tony didn't say anything, he just spit out a mouthful of blood. The man pushed him back down to his knees.

"Don't make another stupid mistake like that again, or you'll be dead too."

Tony nodded, holding his hand sup. "It's not going to happen again. I promise," Tony said. His voice was nasally.

"Good. Now give me your phone. Hers too."

Tony unclipped his cell phone from his belt and handed it to him. Then he grabbed my purse from off my shoulder and dug through it until he had found mine, then handed it to him as well. The man stared at us a little longer before seeming satisfied enough to walk away. Once he did, Tony laid back down beside me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him. "That was my fault."

"It's fine. Just _listen_ to them. Do you hear me? Do as you're told."

"Yeah, I will. I'm sorry."

He took my hand and squeezed it. "It's going to be fine. Just hang in there."

It took nearly twenty minutes for them to empty out the vault. Once they did, we were instructed to stand and walk with our hands in the air to the vault. Then they locked us in. The other hostages were crying and panicking.

Once they were gone, I immediately pulled my flannel shirt off. I ripped the sleeve and tore off the arm. Then I turned my attention to Tony and began cleaning the blood from his face.

"I'm okay. Just sit down and stay calm," he said to me.

I looked down into his eyes. "I _am_ calm. But your nose is broken and bleeding because of me. So let me clean it up at least."

"You're a police officer, aren't you?" one of the hostages asked. He was a man who looked like he was in his late forties. He was one of the few men in the twenty or so hostages left.

"Yeah I am," Tony answered, hissing as I doctored his nose.

"Can't you do something then?" one of the women asked. She was around thirty and had red curly hair.

"Like what? I'm stuck in here without a phone just like everyone else."

"But aren't you trained for stuff like this?" the same man asked.

"What? Trained for being held hostage by six madmen with guns and itchy fingers, who find it important to lock us in a vault for no good reason other than they've probably just seen it in 'Inside Man'?"

"What's 'Inside Man'?" a little girl in the back asked. I could tell she had been crying.

Tony pushed me away long enough to look at her. "It's a movie. Haven't you ever seen it?"

"Tony, she's like, ten. That's a bit of an inappropriate movie for someone her age," I said.

"I'm eleven," she announced.

Tony looked back at me. "She's eleven and apparently quite calm."

I shook my head. "Shut up and let me fix your nose. You're bleeding everywhere."

"We need a plan!" someone shouted.

"I think the detective should do something!"

"Yeah, he should get us out of this!"

"I've got an idea," Tony said, his tone already sarcastic, "how about you all grab your torches and pitchfork and lynch me? Considering this is all my fault anyway."

"Tony," I said.

"What?" he snapped. "This _is_ my fault. You blame me too, don't you? You think I should have done something."

I took his face in my hands and looked into his eyes. "Tony, shut up," I said. "Seriously. None of this is your fault. I don't blame you. Neither of us could have done anything. But I did _not_ get my memory back just so I could die two hours later in a bank heist. We're going to get out and be fine and years from now we're going to tell our kid about this."

"Are you two married?" an older woman with gray hair asked.

"No," I answered.

"But he said you were pregnant. How can you have a baby if you're not married?" the little girl asked.

"Really? She's eleven and she doesn't know how that works?" Tony asked.

"Dude, I was thirteen and had to look it up in the Encyclopedia, so don't make fun of her," I said. "How old were you?"

"Seven."

I scoffed. "Figures."

"So who's going to be the baby's dad?" the girl asked.

"He is," I said, pointing at Tony.

"But you're not married?"

"No."

"Are you engaged?" someone else asked.

"No," I answered again. Apparently my personal life was helping them to take their minds off the current situation. I found it a bit annoying.

"Are you dating?" the woman with red hair asked.

"Well…no."

"So if he's not your husband or, fiancé, or boyfriend…who is he then?"

"That's a little difficult to explain, actually," I started.

"I'm her brother," Tony said.

The mood in the room suddenly changed. If people didn't gasp, they were making some sort of sound of disgust. I let out an exasperated sigh and shook my head.

"He's not my _real_ brother. He's my step-brother. My _adopted_ step-brother, actually. So we're not related like, _at all_," I explained. "We're kind of like Greg and Marcia from 'The Brady Bunch', so it's nothing creepy."

"What's 'The Brady Bunch'?" the girl asked.

"What kind of a childhood have you had?" Tony asked, sounding appalled.

"Can you stop insulting my daughter and figure out a way for us to get out of here?" the girl's mother said.

"Yeah, I'll just whip off my shoe phone and call for help," Tony said sarcastically.

And then I had a thought.

"De Luca, you're brilliant!" I said, kissing his forehead. I grabbed my purse I had brought with me and began digging through it. "I knew there was a reason for bringing this thing in here with me. What's the one thing Logan never lets me leave the house without?"

"A GPS tracking device."

"Well, yeah, that too. But what's the second thing he never lets me leave without?"

"A can of mace?"

When I finally found what I had been searching for, I held it up triumphantly. "A com-device. The only thing that could get a signal in a steel vault. I can call the school and get them to call the police."

"You really think it'll work in here?" Tony asked.

"I've used it in a lot worse places. This won't be a problem. Someone just has to be able to hear me when I call in."

"Hank should. It's right next to his office."

"Hank's not home."

"Where is she?"

"In D.C. with Ororo. They're attending a conference. He won't be home until late tonight, maybe tomorrow."

"What about the Professor?"

"Yeah and what about Mary-Ann and Gilligan?" the man sitting next to Tony said. "Are the two of you even talking about real people or do you just like to hear the sound of your own voices? Because I'm tired of listening to this crap. I came in here to pick up a check to pay for my oldest son's funeral and so far I've had a gun pointed at me, a man shot and _killed_ right in front of me, and then taken hostage in a vault with twenty other people. And I'm really not sure what's worse; having a man's blood and brains sprayed over my face or being locked in here with the two of you, who haven't shut up since you got in here. But if you have a way of getting in touch with someone _outside_ of here, then do it and stop _talking_ about doing it."

"Sorry," I apologized. "I talk when I get nervous."

"You're not _acting_ like you're nervous."

"That's because I'm trying to stay calm and think of a plan. I'm not yelling at him," I pointed to Tony, "to get me out of this."

"That's great. Now use that stupid cell phone or radio, or whatever the heck it is to get help."

I pressed the button on the com-device and the top and bottom slid out. I turned it on and put it to my ear. There wasn't any sound. "This is Jayden. If anyone can hear me, there's been an emergency. I need someone to come in."

I kept the com-device to my ear but there was nothing but silence. My stomach churned and my head reeled as I tried to deal with all of the nerves, fear, anger and everything else the people in the room were feeling. The fact that the vault was made of metal didn't help considering it held emotions stronger than almost any other material. I wanted out and I was going to do everything I could to make sure I did.

I pulled back the com-link and changed stations. Maybe someone else had a com-link with them and had it turned on. As soon as I switched over, it began to ring. I waited patiently for nearly two minutes before the ringing finally ended.

"You got Rogue. Who do I have?" Marie answered, her southern drawl thick.

"Rogue, it's Jayden. This is very important; I need you to listen closely, okay?"

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

"Tony and I are at Luttford View Bank. We're being held hostage with a group of about twenty people. We're locked in the vault right now. There were six men, they came in with guns and they emptied the vault before they put us in here. One of the men slipped and shot one of the hostages and they broke Tony's nose."

"Are you okay? Is the baby all right?" she asked, her tone worried.

"Yeah, we're fine," I said. "But I need you to call the police. Tell them what's happened and have them come over here _immediately_."

"All right, yeah, I can do that. Ya'll just be careful," she said, then the line went silent.

I pressed the button that sent the top and bottom sliding back into the com-device and shoved it into my pocket.

"Someone's calling the police," I announced. "If everyone can just stay calm, we'll be fine."

Then I sat back down beside Tony and we waited.

* * *

Thirty minutes passed by and nothing happened. We all sat in the tight, dim room in silence. Then finally the door opened and we were led back into the lobby. The body of the dead man was gone, leaving nothing but remnants of his head spread across the floor and a trail of blood on the carpet where his body had been dragged away. The windows were covered haphazardly with sheets of newspaper, blocking everything out. But through the slits I could see red and blue flashing lights.

The police had arrived.

The men lined us all up in a straight line. Then they took the eleven year old girl from her mother and pushed three of the adults towards the front with her. They were all older.

"As a good faith gesture, we're releasing the kid and the old people," one of the masked me announced.

I didn't say anything about how a good faith gesture was pointless after committing murder. It only helped when the bank robbers had _only_ robbed a bank. But they were new, amateurs, and didn't know. The police hadn't told them it was pointless and if they thought that by releasing some of the hostages they would get away easier, I wasn't going to screw it up and say otherwise.

They lined the people up, the little girl in front crying for her mother, and two of the men led them outside.

As the door swung open, I saw the group of police cars. I saw officers standing, talking to one another. I saw a group of people behind a barricade. As they led the people outside, I spotted Detective Dave O'Reily, Tony's partner, standing among the other police officers.

"Dave's here," I whispered to Tony. "He must have found out that you were one of the hostages. This is way out of your jurisdiction."

"Good. Maybe he can talk to the hostage negotiator and get them to let you go," he whispered back.

"Why would they? The women way outnumber the men. They would lose their leverage if they let us go."

"Not _them_. You."

"Why would they let me go?"

"Because you're pregnant."

"He doesn't know that." I looked up at him. "Does he?"

He gave a nervous smile, showing the blood still on his teeth. "No, of course not," he lied.

"I told you not to tell anyone."

"You also told me to keep your cell phone so you could text for help and I ended up getting my nose broken. So not everything you tell me to do is the best of ideas."

"Shut up and I'll buy you a cookie when we get out."

"Do the two of you have a death wish or something?" one of the men asked, walking up to his. He was the one who had broken Tony's nose.

"No, sir," Tony answered.

"Then shut the fu -"

And them my com-device started ringing. I had forgotten to turn it off.

The man stared at me, then lifted his gun. He pointed it at my head and I stared down the end of the dark barrel.

I heard the click of the trigger. The sound as the bullet loaded into the chamber. The 'whack' as the bullet shot from the barrel. I could smell the powder as it burned.

I braced myself for the pain. For the overwhelming agony. For my death that was to come.

But it never did.

I watched as the bullet shot out of the gun in almost slow motion. And I watched as it hit an invisible wall mere inches from my face and fell to the ground. It bounced off the man's boot, then hit the floor.

We were both in shock and as I looked up to Tony. So did he. His eyes were fixated on the space just in front of my head. He stared at it, unblinking, as he used his mutation to harden the molecules around me. Building an invisible wall to protect me.

The man blinked, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. "Mutant," he muttered.

Then he turned his gun on Tony.

One shot.

Two shots.

Blood sprayed everywhere.

Tony fell to the ground. Hard. He landed with a wet 'thud' as his blood began to pool on the ground before his body ever met it.

With no rational thought left, I stopped thinking about me. I took the gun from the shooter, rammed the butt of it in his face, breaking his nose. I brought my knee up and pushed him down onto it, kneeing him in the stomach. I drove my elbow into his temple before pushing him to the ground.

The other gunman with itchy fingers came at me, but I smacked his gun away, delivering a kick to his face. I spun and elbowed him in the stomach before bringing my first up to bunch him in the forehead, knocking him out.

I took his gun and shot one of the other gunmen, watching them fall to the ground. I didn't even hear the gunshot that sent the bullet ripping through my back and stomach.

I felt the blood pouring out, hot against my skin as I fell to the ground. As my vision began to darken, one thought kept running through my mind: '_This is how I lose the baby._'


	14. Suspicious Minds

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel. This is sad because I would be rich out the wazoo if I did. I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter, we're getting close to the end. So tell me what ya'll think. Has it been good so far, bad, just kind of meh? I'd love to know. Enjoy!

* * *

My eyes flickered open and I stared around me. I was in a hospital room, but it wasn't the infirmary. It was somewhere new and unfamiliar. I was hooked up to machines, all the usual, and they beeped and whirred, telling me I was definitely alive and making my head pound even worse.

And there was a pain in my abdomen that would not go away.

"Well we didn't expect to see you awake so soon. Welcome back," I heard someone say. I looked up to my right and saw an older, grey haired black woman standing beside me. She smiled. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm in a lot of pain," I said. "What happened?"

"You were in a bank robbery. One of the men shot you," she said.

I looked around the room. There were flowers everywhere. "It looks like a funeral home in here," I said. "Why are there so many flowers?"

She smiled at me again. "You're a hero, honey."

I pushed myself up in bed with effort and felt more pain run through me. "How am I a hero?"

"You helped save the people in the bank. The other hostages. Don't you remember? They said you called for help."

"I was in there with them. That's not being a hero; that's saving my own hide."

"They said you fought off three of the bank robbers. A little girl like you taking on three grown men; that's pretty heroic."

"So they sent me flowers?"

"And a few other things. We just couldn't fit it all in here. You can take them home with you when you're released."

"That's okay," I said. "Can you like, give them to people who don't have any family, or something? Maybe it'll cheer them up. I don't know."

She smiled at me again. "That's very sweet of you, honey. I'm sure they'll love it," she said. "But there's a few cards that I have a feeling have money in them, I don't think you'll be wanting to give them away, will you?"

"Uh…" I said, trying to think. My brain felt foggy. "I'll go through the cards and keep them, I guess. But there was a man in the bank, I don't know his name, he was on the hostages, I want to give the money to him. If there is any."

"And why's that?"

"He was there to get a check to pay for his son's funeral. He'll need the money more than me."

"Well no wonder you've got so many flowers. We should be calling you Mother Teresa," she joked.

"I wouldn't take it that far," I said. "Have I had any visitors?"

"No, not yet. But there's a media circus outside waiting for you. They all want to interview the hero girl. I told them to leave you alone, you needed your rest, but they're still out there," she said. "We'll make sure they don't disturb you, don't you worry."

I gave her a weak smile. "Thanks," I said as a man walked into the room.

He was a doctor. The one I had seen in my vision.

"You've come to tell me that I've lost my baby, right?" I asked him, adjusting myself in the bed.

"Miss Rivers, you should be careful. You've had a lot of damage to your stomach," he said.

"Yeah, I know. I was there when I got shot. It wasn't fun," I said. "But you're here to tell me about the baby, aren't you?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, I am."

"Go on then. Let's get it over with."

He let out a sigh. "Miss Rivers, the gunshot you received to your abdomen damaged the womb, killing the fetus. We had to do a procedure called a D and C, it's -"

"An abortion."

"No, it induces the cervix. It causes you to pass the placenta once the fetus has expired. Leaving it in the womb could set up infection and cause further damage in just a few short weeks."

"So my baby's dead. It's gone."

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"The gunshot…it damaged the cervix, or womb, or whatever. Didn't it?"

"Both," he said. "How did you know?"

"Just a guess."

"Unfortunately it's a good guess," he said, looking me in the eye. "Miss Rivers, I'm sorry to tell you that not only did you lose the fetus -"

"Baby," I corrected. "It was a _baby_. It wasn't just a fetus; it was my _child_, doctor."

"Yes, I understand that, and I'm sorry," he said. "You've lost the baby and the damage that was caused by the bullet wound has eliminated your chances of ever conceiving again."

"I can't get pregnant?" I asked. He shook his head. "Yeah, I figured as much."

"There's a list of consolers I can give you that can help you through this."

"I don't need a consoler," I said. "I just need to tell the father."

"Well, you have free use of the hospital's telephone," he said, pointing to the one beside my bed. There was a large vase with white orchids behind it.

"No," I said, looking back over to him. "He came in with me. He was shot, too."

The doctor looked up at the nurse. She shook her head. "Honey, he's not here," she said.

I was confused. "Why would they take him to a different hospital? Why didn't they bring him here with me?"

"No, he's gone," she said.

"He's already checked out? He didn't even stay around long enough to see how I was doing? What a jerk."

The woman placed her hand on my arm. "No child, he's _gone_. He passed away."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "No, you're wrong. He's not dead. He can't be."

"I'm afraid so," she said.

"No, you're wrong," I said again.

"He died from complications due to a gunshot wound," she said. "They tried, but they couldn't bring him back."

I pushed her hand away from me. "He's not dead," I said. "He's not dead!"

"Miss Rivers, just calm down," the doctor said.

"Calm down? You want me to _calm down_? You're telling me my step-brother's dead! How am I supposed to be calm?"

"I understand you're upset," the doctor said.

"No, you don't understand _anything_!" I shouted. "You don't understand. He's _not_ dead."

"Sweetie, he is," the nurse said as another woman in the hall began shouting at someone else.

"Sir…sir…mister, you can go in there. It's family only!"

"I am family. She's my daughter!" Logan called before opening my door and walking in.

I ripped the cords and IVs from me and climbed out of bed. I ignored the searing pain in my stomach and ran to him. He wrapped his arms around me gently, careful not to hold me too tight. But I held him with as much strength as my arms could muster. I wanted to just get lost in him.

"The baby's gone," I said to him as I began to weep.

"I know," he said, kissing the top of my head.

"And they said Tony's dead, too."

"What?"

"They said Tony died. I saw him get shot, but I didn't think…I didn't think he would _die_. I just thought he got hit in the shoulder, I didn't realize," I said. "It's my fault. If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have gotten shot. He never would have died. It's all my fault." I continued to sob.

He pulled back slightly to look down at me. "De Luca's not dead. What're you talkin' about?"

"They said he died."

"Who did?"

"Sir, I did," the nurse said, stepping forward. "There were two gunshot victims that came in from the bank robbery site. The gentleman that came in passed away."

"What was his name?" he asked.

"Adrian Marks."

"What?" I asked, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "Tony's not dead? He…he…he didn't die? He's still alive?"

"I don't know, honey. I don't know who Tony is."

I looked back to Logan. "Where is he? What happened to him?"

"He gained consciousness a few minutes after the SWAT team came in and took control. The two of you and another guy were put in an ambulance, but De Luca refused to go to a hospital right away."

"Why?" I asked, wiping away my tears.

"He wanted to stay and identify who shot you. They patched him up as much as they could there and he went down to the station to tell 'em which one of 'em shot you. When he was done, he went to another hospital."

"How do you know?"

"He called and told me what happened. He told me where you were."

"He is such an idiot," I said. "He could have bled to death. What was he thinking?"

"You just said it; he's an idiot. He _doesn't_ think."

I took a deep breath and felt my knees start to go weak. I had severely underestimated how injured I was. "I need to sit down."

Logan grabbed my arm, helping to hold me up, and walked me to my bed. I sat down on the foot of it and he sat beside me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and held me to him. The sudden surge of adrenaline I had felt when I had heard Tony was dead had gone and left me feeling sick to my stomach.

"We'll give you two a few minutes, but then I'll be back to hook up your IV again," the doctor said. Then he and the nurse left.

And that's when reality hit me: My baby was gone. It had been a part of me, growing inside of me, and it was dead. I would never be able to have another child. I would never be able to replace what I had lost. It was gone forever and there was nothing I could do.

That afternoon, I clung to my father and cried like a child. And I knew I would never be able to do what he was doing. I could never console my own daughter, or son. I could never hold them in my arms. I could never tell them how much I loved them.

Never.

* * *

Two hours later, there was a knock on my door before it opened. "Hey," Tony said with a smile, walking into my room. His arm was in a sling and there was a bandage over his nose. The skin around it was bruised black and blue.

"Hey," I said back. "How did you get released so early?"

"I didn't. I snuck out," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Okay I guess. How about you? Logan said you didn't go to the hospital right away. Did that make anything worse?"

"Nah," he said, sitting on the small couch beside my bed. He bounced up and down on it. "This thing's going to be a pain to sleep on." He stopped bouncing. "Both bullets went through my arm, shoulder area, thingy. Nothing too bad."

"Good," I said. "But what do you mean by that couch is going to be a pain to sleep on? You're not going to sleep on it."

"Sure I am. I'm on medical leave at work, so I can't really help with the case. Besides, you need me."

"Do I?"

"Yep."

"And why is that again?"

The smile fell from his face and he suddenly became very serious. "Because whether you wanted to get close to the baby or not, you did. And it hurt when you lost it."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it is," he said. "And it doesn't matter how much you love Scott, or Logan even, you know that the only person who feels half as much pain about losing it is me, because…well, because it didn't matter how much you told me not to get excited about it, I did. I was going to be a father. Now I'm not."

"Yeah, but you can still have kids."

He nodded. "But not with someone I love as much as you."

"We're quite a pair, aren't we De Luca? Both of us bullet hole ridden, you with your broken nose, me with my junk all jacked up from some stupid D and C, both of us in pain, and neither admitting it," I said. "Maybe if we had admitted that more often, we wouldn't have fought as much when we were together."

"Well," he started, "I'm actually not in _that_ much pain. I'm on some really strong pain pills. I'm pretty high at the moment."

I laughed but my stomach hurt to do so. "That's great, that's just what I need." He laid back and tried stretching out, but he was just too tall. "Come on, you can lay down beside me."

He sat up and moved from the couch over to my bed. He lay down beside me with a few grunts of pain as he tried to adjust his arm so that it wouldn't hurt.

I lay my head against his uninjured shoulder. A few seconds later I felt his hand reach down and grab hold of mine. With knowing fingers, he laced his through mine and gave my hand a small squeeze. I looked over at him.

"We're going to be okay, Jayden. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right? And we're not dead. Not yet."

"I thought you _were_ dead."

His brow furrowed. "Why would you think that?"

"When you got shot, there was a lot of blood. It was everywhere. Then when I woke up in here, I told the doctor I needed to see you. The nurse said you were dead."

"I don't understand. Why would your nurse tell you I was dead?"

"I said you came in with me because I thought you had. She said the man who came in with me was dead. It wasn't until Logan got here and told me you were okay that I realized we'd both made a mistake."

He gave me a small smile. "You can't get rid of me that easily," he said. He looked around the room. "Where is Logan, by the way?"

"Cafeteria, visiting hours were over and they made him leave. He needed a break anyway," I said. "But how did you get in here?"

"I showed them my badge. I told them you were a victim in a bank robbery I was investigating."

"So you lied?"

"Kind of…maybe."

I gave him a smile. "You're horrible, Tony."

He kissed my forehead. "You'll love me when I smuggle in some ice cream for you later."

Tony and I stayed that way for a little over an hour. At seven o'clock it was visiting hours again and Logan was back. He opened the door and immediately cocked his eyebrow at us. "I've been down in the stupid cafeteria for over an hour and you've been up here playin' around with _him_?" Logan asked, pointing to Tony.

"We've hardly been playing," I said, sitting up in the bed. I scratched at the spot where my IV was. "We've been talking about the last mission I did."

"What about it?" he asked.

"You never confessed me."

"You never asked me to."

"Will you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Right now?"

"You want De Luca in here?"

I looked over at him. "Yeah, he can stay."

He walked over and stood at my right side. "All right, go on."

I took a deep breath. "Forgive me my father for I have sinned. I took the life of a man whose sins were greater than mine and I took his life to save others but…but I took the life of an innocent child, one that didn't deserve to die. And it wasn't out of greed or because I was following an order. It was because I made a mistake. That mistake ate away at me; it traumatized me to the point that it caused me to lose my memory. But now that I have my memories…I realized that what I paid wasn't such a terrible price."

My stomach was killing me so I tried adjusting myself in the bed to elevate the pain. It helped a little, but not enough.

"In exchange for murdering him, I took money and that was out of greed. But in order to atone for my sins, I've decided to give the money that I took for his murder to his two surviving children in hopes to make it right. Until then, I seek forgiveness from you for my sins. So please…_please_ forgive me."

He bent down and brushed the hair off my face before kissing my temple. "You're forgiven," he whispered. I took another deep breath before pulling back to look up at him. "You okay?"

"No," I said as I started to cry. "But I think…" I let out a hard breath as I tried to gain control over my emotions. "I think I will be. Eventually."

He gave me another kiss on my forehead. "I love you, darlin'."

"I love you, too, Logan." There was a knock on the door. An image flashed through my mind. "It's the Professor," I said.

Tony got up from the bed and went over to the door to open it. The Professor wheeled in, stopping in front of my bed. Tony came back and plopped down on the couch, groaning as he did.

"How are you feeling Jayden?" Xavier asked.

"Horrible," I answered honestly, wiping tears away. "Everything hurts. Inside, outside, all of it."

"Your doctor said you were refusing to take your pain medication."

"I'm not refusing it. I'm just refusing high dosages of it. Tony's high enough for both of us," I said with a small smile. "I think everyone knows how I feel about being on medication that makes me loopy. I'm a little too much of a control freak for that."

He returned my smile. "I spoke to Henry. He and Ororo are returning early tonight. He'll be contacting the hospital and your doctor to discuss taking over your care. You should be able to return home by tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. May I ask question?" I nodded. "The reason you're refusing your medication, are you sure it's just because you like to be in control?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm scared that if I numb anything, any of the pain, when I stop being numb, it's all going to hurt even worse. I'm terrified of forgetting and then remembering it all again, because that hurt so badly this time, I don't want to do it over. I just…I don't want to do it."

"As I told you earlier today, I would be more than willing to help ease your emotional pain as much as possible."

I nodded. "I would like that."

He motioned for me to come closer to him so I stood up and moved to the end of my bed. I lowered my head and he placed both of his hands on either side of it. A few seconds later, I felt a warmth envelope me. It was like being wrapped in a big, fuzzy blanket. And what had begun as an almost unbearable pain slowly began to ebb and ease, becoming more manageable. It all began to soften. To blur. The pain was still there, it just didn't hurt as bad anymore.

When he was done, he removed his hands and placed them back by his side. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you."

He took my hand and grasped it tightly in his. "You're welcome."

I wiped a final tear from my eye and gave him my best smile. "When did you say I get to go home?"

* * *

True to his word, the Professor had me released from the hospital the next day. Hank continued me on the antibiotics the doctor had started me on and gave me some low grade pain pills, then let me go to my room. Since my wounds weren't fatal, there was no reason to keep me locked up in the infirmary. And Hank said I needed to walk as much as possible to keep fluid from building up. So for three hours I prowled around the house, doing my best to ignore my pain. But when it started to get the best of me, I went to my room to take another pain pill.

I went to by bathroom, popped open the bottle and poured one of the pills into my hand. I put the cap back on and then turned on the sink. I put the pill in my mouth before leaning my head down to the facet, using the water to wash the pill down. After turning the water off, I dried my mouth with the back of my hand. I contemplated lying down on my bed, but I didn't want to have to stare at the wall of photos I had. I didn't want to remember being happy. I wanted to allow myself to grieve and be angry and feel depressed. I _needed_ to feel that way. Because once I had truly felt it, I could move on.

But right then I just needed to let myself feel.

I was tired but didn't want to go back out into my room. I looked around and after a few seconds decided I had to sit somewhere, so I climbed into my bathtub and sat down. I grabbed a towel from the rack beside me and folded it up then placed it behind my back, cushioning it some where the wound was.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Physically and mentally I knew healing would be long to come. But eventually it would. And until then, I would wait.

I stayed that way for nearly twenty minutes before I heard someone at the opening of my bedroom door. "Jayden, are you in here?"

It was Scott.

"Yeah, I'm in the bathroom."

It didn't take long for him to reach me. It was only a matter of seconds before he was standing in my doorway, taking up the frame with his body. "Are you…?"

"Decent? Yes."

"Good," he said, walking over to my bathtub. He dropped down to his knees in front of me. He grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me. "I was so worried about you. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything."

"Shh," I said. "Don't be sorry; you didn't know. And I'm fine now, so don't worry about me. I'm okay, Scott."

He gave me another kiss. Soft, gentle. "I do worry about you. I didn't know what had happened to you. I didn't know if you were okay, where you were. No one here knew what was going on and I couldn't get in touch with Logan." He clenched his jaw and shook his head. "I thought I'd lost you, Jayden."

I ran my hand across his cheek. "You didn't lose me. And if I have anything to say about it, you're not going to lose me for a very long time," I said. "I'm right here and I plan on staying that way."

He seemed to think for a second, then said, "By 'here' do you mean your bathtub?"

I smiled. "Yeah, it's pretty comfy. Do you want to join me?"

"Do you have room for me?"

"There's always room for you, Slim."

He stood up and then carefully climbed into the bathtub. He sat at the opposite end as me but once he was situated, I moved so that I was sitting between his legs with my back pressed lightly against his chest. I rested my arms on his thighs and my hands on his knees. He mimicked me, laying his hands over mine, covering them. I placed my head on one of his shoulders and he gave a quick kiss to the exposed flesh on my neck.

He surrounded me completely.

"Now I really could stay here forever," I said. "As long as you're here."

I felt him smile. "Maybe we could move somewhere just a _little_ bit more comfortable."

"I don't want to go in my room. Not right now."

"Why?"

"All those pictures hanging on my wall. All those memories."

"I know that it hurts that you can't remember them, but -"

"No one told you, did they?" I asked, cutting him off.

"No one told me what?"

I craned my neck to look up at him. "I remember, Scott. I got my memory back. All of it."

"What? When?"

"Yesterday morning."

"What happened?"

"It turns out that I _do_ keep a somewhat record of my life. All in photos."

"Those pictures have been there for months, though."

I shook my head. "Not those pictures. Other ones."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What other ones?"

I turned my head around so that I didn't have to look at him. "Scott…all those times I told you that I was working undercover with Tony…not all of that was true. Sometimes I did. But other times I was doing another job."

"What kind?" he asked. I didn't reply as I tried to think of how I could tell him. He put his mouth to my ear and kissed it. "You can tell me anything, Jayden. You don't have to hide from me," he whispered. "We've already got through the worst of it."

I looked back up at him once again. "I worked for an agency, I don't know the name of it, I didn't even know the name of my boss, but they approached me to work for them. I took the job."

"Doing what?"

"I was an assassin. I killed people."

He laughed. "What kind of pain meds does Hank have you on?" he said. But when I didn't laugh along with him, his smile fell away. "You're joking…right?"

"My job was to go undercover. I worked with rapist, murderers, child molesters. I got close to them and I _killed_ them. I eliminated the people who deserved to go to prison and pay for their mistakes and didn't. People who did horrible, _horrible_ things but got away with them because they were rich enough to pay people off or they had diplomatic immunities, or…just _some_ way to get off without being convicted. So I killed them."

"Since when?"

"Since I was twenty-two. I was working at the bookstore café and an agent came in. He said they knew about the work I had done with Tony and the NYPD. He gave me a cell phone and told me I would be contacted later with further details. They called me that night, told me what I would be doing and said that I would have the best teams working for me. Everything from dialect coaches and psychologists to help me get into the people I was meant to be, my aliases, to makeup artists, people who would style wigs for me. Everything. They would do it all for me. I just had to read a report on my target, who I was supposed to be and do my job."

"How many jobs did you do for them?"

"Fifty-two."

"And you still work for them?"

I shook my head slightly. "No. I did my last job in December. I'm officially retired."

"Why did you retire?"

"I was tired of what it was doing to me. The only two people who knew what I did were Logan and Tony. I hated that I kept it from you, that I was constantly lying to you and that I had to keep it hidden." I said. "But I was just _tired_. The memories and the emotions from those people, I could feel them when I touched them. It exhausted me, trying to keep their thoughts separate from mine. Keeping them out of my head."

He didn't say anything else. He didn't reply. He just waited patiently for me to continue. So I did.

"I got tired of pretending to be someone I wasn't. I spent years trying to stop being who my mother wanted me to be, just to turn around and get paid to be someone else. I put everything on hold just so I could do my job. I wanted my life back," I said. "I wanted to be with you. I had used wanting to wait for Lily to be older for us to be together as an excuse for too long. Really what I wanted you to wait for was me. I needed to be in a place where I could actually be in a relationship and doing that job wasn't allowing me to be in that position."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was afraid you'd be disappointed in me."

"Why would I be disappointed in you?"

"Because I had the potential to be so many other things and I settled on doing that. I could have done something amazing, you always told me I could, but I didn't. Instead I just followed my most basic instinct and started killing people."

"Jayden, I don't know that I agree with what you did, but…that doesn't mean you had to hide it from me. I love you. No matter what."

I gave him a short, small smile. "I love you, too."

He wrapped his arms around me and I rested my head on his shoulder. He kissed my cheek softly. "Thank you for coming back to me."

"Thanks for waiting on me."

"Any time, Rivers."

We sat in silence for a few minutes. We didn't move, we just enjoyed being with each other. I liked the feeling of his arms around me. I liked feeling like I belonged to him. It was something I had wanted for so long. It made me feel comfortable, despite the pain. It was like the happiness of being with him deadened my nerves. It killed the pain I felt. Being with him made it all but disappear. I just wasn't so sure that that was a good thing.

"Did anyone tell you about what happened?" I asked.

"When?"

"Yesterday at the bank."

"Yeah. Hank said you were shot in the back and pretty close range."

"Did he tell you the baby's dead?"

"Yeah…yeah, he told me. I'm sorry."

"Me too," I said. "The doctor told me I wouldn't be able to have kids again. This was my only chance and it's gone."

"There was nothing you could do about it. You didn't know.

"But I _did_ know."

"What are you talking about?"

"A few months before I broke up with Tony, I had a vision. I was pregnant and a doctor told me the baby was dead, that I would never be able to have kids again. Just like yesterday. But in the vision, I was further along. I knew I was going to lose it, I just didn't think it would be this soon."

"You saw that?" I nodded. "Why didn't you ever tell me about it?"

"Because I thought I could stop it. I knew I was still fairly young in the vision, so if I could just hold off on sleeping with anyone until I was…thirty, maybe, I would be okay." I gave a small laugh. "Logan loved it. I was scared celibate. He had been trying to do that for years. And I never told you because…well, I know how you worry. It was the second vision I had had of someone telling me that because of some medical reason I couldn't have kids."

"What was the first?"

"Do you remember when I was nineteen or twenty and I had a horrible vision of being kidnapped and raped by a bunch of men?"

"Yes."

"In that vision, I was beaten beyond recognition, I had my left leg amputated and Hank had to remove my uterus and tie my ovarian tubes. All because of damage. In the vision where I lost the baby the doctor told me the same thing; I can't have kids because of the damage," I said. "If I had told you that, you would have been so worried and cautious over every little thing I did. And I didn't want you to do that. I wanted you to just enjoy being with me and without having that on your mind."

"So all of this time when I thought you were telling me everything…you weren't."

I shook my head. "No," I said. "I wasn't. I lied to you. A _lot_. But none of it was to hurt you. In my mind it all made sense; I was trying to protect you. Even if you didn't need it. Which is why I'm telling you the truth now: Because you deserve it. You've always been honest with me."

"No I haven't. I've lied to you and hurt you before, too."

I let out a sigh. "Can't you just be mad at me like a normal person?"

"No."

I smiled. "You're better than I deserve, Summers."

He kissed the top of my head sweetly. "You deserve more than I can give you, but I'll give you everything I can. I'll always be here and I'll always take care of you. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Not again."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I believe you."

And I did.


	15. At Last

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to X-Men or Marvel, but they haven't sued me so far, so thanks guys!

Author's Note: This is the last chapter, so I hope ya'll have enjoyed the story. I tried to end the Jayden series last time and it just didn't work. Right now, as far as I can see, _this_ is the last story. I'm going to try to concentrate on original stories and hopefully write a book, but if the inspiration bug bites, I just might bring her back again. You never know. But thanks for all of the support and interest ya'll have shown over the years. It means a lot to me! Enjoy, ya'll!

* * *

It took me three days to convince Hank that I was well enough to leave the mansion. It took me four days to convince Tony he wasn't going to die if he cut back on his pain pills long enough to go on a road trip with me. They both finally agreed and I picked Tony up at his apartment. It was the first time in nearly a week I had seen him where he wasn't high as a kite and insisting he could hear my hair grow. After picking him up, we made one pit stop.

Then we drove to Rochester.

The nearly six hour drive was quiet. For once Tony didn't make any smart comments about my driving or attempts to be funny. Which was odd enough on its own. But neither of us were too eager to speak, so we didn't. We just focused on the road before us as I drove in the early morning light.

When we finally arrived at the little blue house at the end of a long street, I double checked the address Tony had gotten as a favor from someone at work to make sure it was right. The address matched. But I hesitated in getting out.

"Problem?" Tony asked.

"More than you know, De Luca," I said. "I've never done this before."

"What? Shown up at a stranger's house randomly?"

"No, I've done that," I said. "I've never faced the family of a target after I've eliminated them."

"Killed them."

"Whatever." I stared at the house for a few moments before finally letting out a sigh. "Alright, let's go."

We both got out of my Jeep and Tony grunted and groan in pain, despite the face that his arm was nearly healed. We both walked up the short walkway and I felt my stomach flutter. I had an idea of what I was going to say, but I was still nervous. Tony looked over and family me a small smile. It was mildly comfortable that he was there. He had spoken to more families who had lost members than I had.

We walked up to the door and I pressed the button for the doorbell. We waited for about a minute before someone finally answered.

And I pushed my nerves aside.

An older man with grey hair and a mustache opened the door. He smiled. "Hello. Can I help you?"

"Are you Tomas Grayson?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes I am."

"Is Mrs. Grayson home?"

His brow furrowed and I could feel his concern growing. "Yes she is. May I ask what this is about?"

"I would like to speak to the two of you, if that would be possible, sir?"

"What about?"

"Your grandson David."

"What about him? How do you…how do you know him?"

"I would rather speak to you together, if that's okay?"

He seemed to think it over for a moment, contemplating whether to let two strangers into his house with him and his wife. They were both older and if Tony and I were bad people and wanted to hurt them, we wouldn't have much trouble doing so. I didn't blame him for being cautious.

Tony, who could obviously see his uneasiness, reached into his jacket for his ID and badge. "I'm Antonio De Luca, NYPD. This isn't a police matter, it's a personal one, and it's not mine, it's hers, but she asked me to come so that you wouldn't think she's just some crazy girl showing up at your house. We were both injured at the end of last week and we've spent the time since then recuperating. She actually had a very difficult time convincing her doctor to let her leave home today to come here. So I apologize if this is an inconvenient time for you, but we've been busy this week and this was a bit of a last minute decision to come here."

That seemed to work. He nodded. "Okay, come on in. I'll get Merriam."

Tony and I followed him into his house. He led us into the living room and instructed us to sit on the couch and wait on him as he went to get his wife.

There was an open bowl of peppermints on the coffee table and Tony grabbed a handful of them, shoving them in his jacket pocket. I gave him a look. "What? They're for people to eat."

"How have you not been fired yet?"

He smiled at me. "Because they love me."

I shook my head. "They're the only ones."

He was about to say something else, something sarcastic no doubt, but Mr. Grayson entered the room again, grasping his wife's arm and ushering her in alongside him. She was blind.

Tony stood up politely and waited until Mrs. Grayson was seated in the loveseat across from us before taking his seat beside me once again.

I smoothed my hair back and took a deep breath before folding my hands in my lap. "Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, my name is Jayden. I'm here to speak to you about your grandson David."

"He passed away in December," Mrs. Grayson said.

"Yes ma'am, I know."

"How?"

"I'm a mutant, but please don't be scared. My mutation can't hurt you," I said. "I see things."

"My daughter, David's mother, she could get into my mind, show me things. Beautiful colors and images. She passed away three years ago. I've missed her ever since," she said. "Of all the things that frighten me, you're not one of them child."

I nodded and took another deep breath, calming myself further. "In December, I saw something. I had a vision of the break in that occurred at your ex-son-in-law's house."

"Did you see the men who shot them?" Mr. Grayson asked.

I shook my head. "No, I'm afraid not, sir," I lied. "I'm very sorry."

"What _did_ you see?"

"I saw…I saw the two of them get shot. And I didn't do anything about it. I was scared to go to the police because I didn't know how to explain to them what I had seen without letting them know I was a mutant. I didn't say anything and because of that, your grandson died."

"So why are you here? Why three months later?" he asked.

"At the end of December I fell and a rock landed on my head. I lost my memory. I remembered bits and pieces, but not enough. Last week something happened and I got my memory back. I wanted to visit you that day, to let you know how sorry I was. But we were in a bank while a robbery occurred. We were both shot and injured and had to spend some time in the hospital."

"You said you were scared to tell the police, but the young man you're with introduced himself as a detective. You've obviously told him," Mr. Grayson said.

"Yes, sir, I have. Detective De Luca is my brother. I didn't tell him about what I had seen though until last week. He had no idea and couldn't report it himself," I said. "And I apologize that I couldn't come to you sooner and tell you how truly sorry I am that because of my selfish fear, I didn't do anything."

Mr. Grayson studied me for a long time. He stared at me but didn't say anything. After a few minutes, I began to wonder if he was waiting on me to continue. "What do you think the police would have done if you _did_ tell them about what you had seen?" he finally asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

He looked to Tony. "They would have attempted to get her to register as a mutant. They could have arrested her. Part of the new procedures to catching terrorists is identifying what's considered a threat. Jayden's ability to see things could make her a national threat. At least that's how they would see her, anyway. If they thought she could see national security secrets, they wouldn't allow her to just walk around. They would definitely do something with her, whether it's detaining or experimentation. It would be something," Tony explained.

"Assuming that they believed you," Mrs. Grayson said. Although she was blind, she was facing me and looking at my face. She looked like she was looking me in the eyes.

I nodded. "Yes, assuming that they believed me."

"They very well may have thought you were just crazy," she said, a slight smile on her face.

"It's very possible ma'am. Many people I've told about my visions have."

"But either way, they wouldn't have done anything about David," she said. "No offence to your brother, but all the detectives we've spoken to about the accident that killed David and the one that killed our daughter, none of them have been very helpful. Or respectful."

"I apologize for that ma'am," Tony said.

She smiled. "Well it's not your fault is it, my dear?"

He smiled back despite the fact that she couldn't see it. "No, but if you give me the names of the detectives who worked on those cases, I can sort them out for you."

Mr. Grayson laughed. "That's not necessary, but thank you," he said. "Would the two of you like anything to drink? I've just made a pot of coffee. It's not too strong, but it does the trick."

"No thank you," Tony and I said in unison.

He smiled and nodded. "Well, as much as we appreciate you both coming here and apologizing…it's not the only reason why you're here, is it?"

"No, sir," I said. "It's not."

"Then why are you here?"

"After seeing the break in, I saw you and your wife and that you had taken custody of your two granddaughters," I lied. I took a deep breath. "I know it's not polite to discuss money, and my parents would be completely horrified at the mere thought of me even bringing this up, and I apologize ahead of time -"

"Miss?" he interrupted me.

"Yes, sir?"

"You've already come into a stranger's home, told them you're a mutant and saw their grandson die in a vision. I don't see how discussing finances would be any worse."

I nodded. "Yes, sir, I understand that. But I've never done this before and I'm very nervous. So I'm sorry if you think I'm being awkward or weird. I'm just not sure what I'm supposed to say to keep from looking like a very strange, imposing person."

"At this point, I don't think there _is_ anything you can say to keep from sounding that way. But you've already got one foot in the door, there's no point in stopping now, is there?" he said. Then he gave me a kind smile.

I smiled back at him and nodded once again. "I had a vision and saw you and your wife. I saw that you were having difficulty taking care of your granddaughters as far as money goes. And I saw that you were contemplating giving them up for adoption," I said. "Detective De Luca is my brother, but not biologically. I was adopted. My mother gave me away when I was three and I was adopted a year later. Even though I was only there for a year, I hated that place. I dreamed every night of my mother coming back to get me. But she never did."

"Jayden is it?" Mr. Grayson asked. I nodded. "Well Jayden, I'm sorry that you had to go through that. But my wife and I have to do what's best for them."

"And I understand that, sir."

"Do you know why your mother gave you up?" Mrs. Grayson asked. "Did you ever find out why?"

"Yes ma'am. She said it was because she couldn't take care of me."

"So you understand why we may have to give up the girls. You seem to be doing well. Can't you see that your mother gave you up to make your life better?" she asked.

"My mother only _told_ me she gave me away because of that. Years later I found out it was because she didn't love me. Her own child. Not long after that I found my father, my biological one. He didn't have a lot of money, but he loved me. He still does, and because of that, I don't care about everything else. I've lived with him for the last eight years and they've been the best years of my life," I said. "My mother could take of me but didn't love me, so she gave me away. You love them; you just can't take care of them the way you wished you could. My mother's problem couldn't be fixed, but _yours_ can."

"How? I can't work, neither can Merriam. Our church has taken up funds for us, that's what's gotten us through these last three months, but they can't keep giving us money," Mr. Grayson said, tears forming in his eyes. "Now I've been praying for a way to take care of those little girls, because they're the light of our lives, but my prayers haven't been answered yet and I don't know what else I'm supposed to do."

I reached into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out an envelope. I handed it to him. "You're supposed to take this," I said.

"What is it?"

"I hope it's an answer to your prayers."

"If it's money, I can't take it."

"Why not?"

"I can't just take your money; I don't know you."

"So? I'm not very religious myself, but isn't there a saying something along the lines of, 'God works in mysterious ways'? Now I don't know about you Mr. Grayson, but I don't know a much more mysterious way than having me show up here today," I said with a small smile. "You've been praying for help and I felt compelled to come here. That seems like the answer you've been looking for."

"I don't…I don't know about this. I'm not sure."

"What aren't you sure about?"

"Why you're doing this."

"I saw your grandson and ex-son-in-law murdered and I didn't do anything. Because of that Sarah and Colleen are orphans and in your charge. I messed up their lives so it's my place to fix it," I said. "My father taught me that when I do something wrong, it's my place to right it. As much as I can, anyway. But the problem with this is that I can't fix death. I can't give you your grandson back. All I can give you is what's in that envelope."

"It's too much."

I smiled at him. "You haven't looked inside it. How do you know it's too much? It could just be ten or twenty dollars."

He held it in his hand, weighing it. "It doesn't feel like ten or twenty dollars."

"Well, it's a little bit more than that."

"How are we supposed to explain where we got it? If the IRS asks am I supposed to tell them a little mutant girl gave it to me?"

"No, I'll take care of it," Tony said. "If anyone asks, the money was left with me and donated to you. I brought it to you. It was all anonymous. But I'll give you all of my numbers and I'll take care of it if you need me to."

"It won't last forever, I'm afraid, but it should be enough to help."

He stared down at the envelope, thinking, deciding. "This isn't your place," he said. "_You_ didn't pull the trigger."

I looked away from him. "But it feels like I did."

* * *

"Look, there's been something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Tony said as I pulled up at his apartment building.

"Why does that never sound good?" I asked.

He laughed. "Because it usually isn't."

I looked over at him. "Well go on, then. Get it over with."

"Do you remember a few years ago when you told me I should leave the NYPD and go back to the FBI?"

I nodded. "That was like, forever ago, but yeah, I remember."

"Well I got a job offer from them. Not in criminal profiling, but in missing persons. It would be worse hours but higher pay. I've done criminal profiling and detective work my whole life; I'll be learning something new. And knowledge is power, right?"

"Stop being such a dork and tell mw what this is really about, De Luca."

He ran his hand back through his hair, one of his nervous habits. "I took the job, Jayden."

I smiled at him. "That's great. When do you start?"

"I don't know."

"This is awesome. What part of New York is it in?"

"It's not."

"Where is it then?"

He gave me a nervous smile and then let it drop. "Chicago."

"Are you serious?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Are you moving there for good?"

"Yep."

"Wow."

"I know."

"When did you get the offer?"

"A couple of weeks ago. But I only accepted it two days ago. I think it helped that I was high on my meds at the time," he joked, laughing slightly.

"Why did you wait so long to take it?"

He looked out his window and drummed his fingers on the divider between our seats where both of our arms were resting. "Well…as much as I love you, I don't always believe everything you say."

"Gee, thanks," I said dryly. "I can convince you to love me, just not to trust me."

"You didn't convince me to love you, Jayden. I fell in love with you when you told me not to."

"Well maybe you should have listened to me for once."

He looked back at me. "I tried."

"You know, Logan's right, you really are the girl in this relationship. We broke up two years ago, Tony. I am not that great of a person to be in love with all this time later. I suck. So why don't you go grab a pint of ice cream and watch 'P.S. I Love You', or 'Ghost', or some other sappy movie and cry?"

"I'm not a girl," he said. "But 'Ghost' is a good movie."

"Well what was it you didn't trust me about that made you delay your decision? I'm curious to know what type of power I weld over you still."

"I didn't believe that the baby was going to die. I thought you were confused, or lying, or -"

"Lying? Why in the world would I lie about that, Tony? I'm not some saint here claiming I always tell the truth, but I'm not that depraved. I have _some_ scruples, you know?" I shook my head. "What would I gain from lying to you about that? What would be my objective, exactly?"

"There wouldn't _be_ anything to gain. Two weeks ago, when you told me all of this, when you said you were pregnant, you weren't who you are now. You didn't have your memories."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I snapped.

"You didn't remember that there _could_ be something to gain. That there _could_ be an objective. Those three months you had amnesia were the best three months of my life in over two years because you were like how you used to be. You didn't look at a situation and see how you could exploit it. You didn't size me up every time I made a move. You were just a normal girl."

"Oh, well, I apologize for getting my memory back. I didn't realize how much you enjoyed it being gone. Shall I knock myself in the head with something to see if I can't lose it again? Because there are a lot of things I would rather _not_ remember about this week," I said. "As a matter of a fact, why don't _you_ hit me? Come on De Luca, let's see if your right hook is as good as you always said it was."

He shook his head. "Stop being ridiculous, I'm not going to hit you."

"Why not? You'll get your aggression out, I'll forget everything, I'll go back to being who you want me to be and you don't have to move. It'll solve everything," I said. "So why not just do it?"

"Do you ever think about how crazy you sound sometimes? I mean, really, you sound like a lunatic," he said, turning in his seat to face me. "I'm not going to _hit_ you."

"Why not? You've thought about it."

"No, I haven't. Of all the things I've thought about doing to you, that wasn't one of them."

"You're a jerk."

"And you're a spoiled brat."

"How am _I_ a spoiled brat?"

"I tell you I'm moving to Chicago and this turns into a conversation about you."

"You started it!"

"Oh, what, are you six now?"

"If I _was_ six, I would still act older than you."

"Yeah, great comeback."

"You're a jerk."

"You already said that."

I stared at him for a moment, frustrated. I thought about slapping him, maybe even punching him. My right hook actually _was_ as good as I said it was. But I realized it didn't matter what _I_ did; _he_ was still moving. So instead, of hitting him, I started crying. I wasn't a sobbing, weeping mess. But I let my tears go.

Tony let out a sigh as he unbuckled himself. He pushed my arm from the divider and folded it up. Then he moved closer and pulled me into a hug.

"I don't want you to leave," I said.

"You'll be fine with me gone."

"No I won't. Who's going to make me watch all of your stupid movies? Who's going to give me foot massages and cook Italian for me?"

"Someone will," he said. "Just hopefully not in that order, unless they wash their hands first."

We both laughed, but my tears didn't stop. "I love you Tony," I said, pulling out of his hug. I looked up at him. "You're one of the most annoying, cocky, immature, insecure jerks I've ever met. But I _do_ love you. I'm sorry I just couldn't love you the way you needed."

"Life sucks like that sometimes," he said. "And you're one of the most annoying cocky, immature, insecure brats I've ever met."

I smiled at him. "What am I going to do without you?"

"_Without_ me? You really think because I'm moving to a different state you can get _rid_ of me?" he asked, his smile growing. "No Miss Rivers, that's not going to happen; I'll be calling you and we'll be doing the whole e-mail thing."

I laughed, my tears finally stopped. "E-mail thing. You sound so old when you said that."

"I _am_ old," he said, wiping a few stray tears from my face with his knuckle.

I stopped him and looked him straight in the eye. "You're leaving because of me, aren't you?"

"There you go with the self-centeredness again," he joked. "No, it was a good offer. It's something new and I'm getting too old to chase bad guys around the city."

"Tony, it's _me_ you're talking to here. I can tell when you're lying."

"I know," he said. He let out another sigh. "I can't stay here and watch you with Scott. I thought I could, but I can't. You can call me a girl all you want, I don't care. I love you and I'll always be there for you, but I'm not strong enough to stand here and see you happy with him."

"We've gotten along just fine in the last two years. What happened? What changed?"

"You weren't _with_ him. You were in love with him, yeah, but you weren't together. That made a difference."

"So I finally have a chance to be happy and you can't stand to see that."

"I wouldn't put it exactly like that, but yeah, I guess."

"That's not fair. I never pitched a fit and moved away whenever you got a new girlfriend."

"Okay, the first problem with that I'm not pitching a fit. I'm being calm; you're the one that's crying."

"I'm not crying anymore," I said. "And you're calm because the only emotions you ever show are anger, lust and sarcasm."

"Sarcasm's not an emotion," he said, giving me a smirk.

"Whatever. My point is that I didn't run away when you brought some new girl around. It didn't matter if I thought they weren't pretty, or smart, or good enough for you. I didn't say _anything_. I was nice to them."

He laughed. "It didn't matter if you said anything or not. You scared them off all the same."

"How did _I_ scare them off?"

"Because you are the _epitome_ of crazy ex-girlfriend."

"I am not."

"Yes you are. You're beautiful, you're smart, but you're insane."

"I'm not insane. I'm a little off kilter, maybe. Eccentric, a bit weird, but that's it. I'm not full blown crazy," I said. "And why would me being insane scare off _your_ girlfriends? They're not dating me."

"What did you always used to tell me? 'If you date me, you date my family'. It's the same for me. And you're the only family I have here. So you kind of influence them. A _lot_."

"Well they all sucked anyway. So you should _thank_ me weeding them out. I saved you the trouble of having to break up with them, which you would have done anyway."

"Oh, well, in that case, thank you," he said sarcastically.

"So what you're telling me," I started, "is that you're moving so you don't have to see me with Scott and so you can get laid without me getting in the way?"

"Yep," he said, giving me a wink. I shook my head. "Come on, you're going to come see me, right? I'll fly you out sometime; I'll show you around town. We'll have fun. And I'll come back here to see you when I get time off. It won't be that bad."

I grabbed him and pulled him closer, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I'm sorry I sucked as a girlfriend and a sister."

"Hey, don't say that. You only sucked as a girlfriend," he said with a laugh. I pulled away from him and punched his shoulder. "Ow! That's my bad arm."

"Wimp."

"I could arrest you for assaulting a federal agent. You want to keep this up?"

"I would totally kick your butt, but I have to go home. I'm meant to be back before five so Hank doesn't have a fit. You know how he is."

He nodded. "Yeah, I do."

I looked at him. "What are we going to do, Tony?"

He kissed my forehead, then moved his mouth to my ear. "We're going to do what we find easiest: Pretend like there's nothing wrong. So I'm going to tell you goodbye and go inside. You're going to drive home and be with your family. Then I'll call you tomorrow and everything will be just fine. Alright?"

I nodded my head slightly. "Okay."

He pulled back and gave me a forced smile. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'll talk to you then," I said.

He gave me another kiss, this time on my cheek, before opening up his door. He winked at me and smiled before slipping out of his seat. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building and about to shut his door when I reached out my hand to him. He took it and gave it a light squeeze.

"Thank you for going with me today, Tony. I don't think I could have done it by myself."

"It was my pleasure," he said. He gave my hand a kiss before letting it go, then he waved at me. "Bye."

"Bye," I said. But then I had a thought. "Wait."

He ducked his head back into the door. "Yeah?"

"When you're in Chicago, hanging out with all your new co-workers and the gorgeous girls and living it up in a new city, I want you to remember something."

"What's that?"

I smiled at him sadly. "We'll always have Paris."

* * *

I walked into Hank's office at ten 'til five and stopped at his desk. He was on the phone so I waited quietly while he spoke.

"Yes…well thank you for the call Moria, I would be more than happy to take you up on your offer…I'll call you back later after I've spoken to Charles and we've discussed the details…Yes, I'll speak to you the…Goodbye." He hung up and looked at me, smiling. "Good afternoon Jayden, how may I help you?"

"You told me to come see you when I got back."

"Oh yes, I did, didn't I?" he said. "I just wanted to see how you were feeling and make sure your medication's working properly. Would you like some tea? I've just made a pot."

"No, I'm fine," I said. "I would actually rather be nosy and ask who you were talking to on the phone? It sounded like a woman."

"Indeed it was. It was Professor MacTaggert."

"The Irish chick Chuck used to date?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"You said she made you an offer. What kind?"

"The serum I use to slow down Rogue's mutation is faulty. It has to be injected once a month in order to keep her mutation under control. But Professor MacTaggert has made a huge leap in her research. She was able to take a sample of the serum and make its effects last up to seven months in one of her test subjects," he said. "With a little more tweaking we could get it to last longer. Perhaps become permanent."

"That's amazing. Scientifically way beyond my understanding, but amazing none the less…right?"

He smiled. "Yes, it is."

"What was the offer, though?"

"Oh, she's asked me to come work with her this summer at her lab in Ireland. I'm sure if we spent three months devoted to it, we could come up with some absolutely astounding results," he said. "It could possibly pave a completely new road for mutants. If the government is given an option to help suppress and control, not eliminate, the mutant gene, they may very well stop research for a cure."

"So you'll be gone for three whole months?"

He nodded. "Yes. If Charles can find a replacement doctor, that is. I'll need someone to take over my charge while I'm gone."

"Okay, well, look…I'm healing up pretty awesomely, there's no real bad pain or anything, so why don't you go talk to the Professor? I can come back later if you need me to."

"Are you positive?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

He walked me to the elevator and I rode it to the first floor with him. Once he got off, I went on up to the second floor. I was tired, physically and emotionally, and the only person who could help me right then was Logan. So I walked down to his room.

Before I ever reached the door, I could hear Rogue's voice. She and Logan were talking. Though I wasn't sure what about. I could only tell that Marie was excited about something.

When I reached the door, I knocked on it. A few seconds Later, Logan answered. He looked awkwardly happy.

"Hey darlin'," he said, greeting me with a smile.

My eyebrow shot up in question. "Am I…interrupting something?"

"No," Marie said, beaming at me. "Come on in."

I stepped into the room and Logan closed the door. I looked at him, then her, and back to him. "Okay, what's going on? Because the two of you are like, freakin' creeping me out right now."

Logan looked at Marie. "You tell her," he said, walking over to his bed. He sat at the foot of it.

"Tell me what?" I asked, confused.

"Guess what we've decided to do," Rogue said.

"If you say move out, I'm going to scream. Enough people are leaving me; I don't need the two of you to leave me, too."

"No," she said. "Wait…who's leavin'?"

"Tony's moving to Chicago for some stupid new FBI job and Hank's going to Ireland for the summer. I don't like people moving and going. I like to keep my life centered and they're totally effing up my chi, or some shiz. So whatever you've decided to do, just tell me it doesn't involve leaving me."

"No." She held up her left hand. "We're gettin' married," she said, showing off her engagement ring. "_Finally_."

"Wow," I said, genuinely shocked. "Um…congratulations."

"Isn't it excitin'?"

"Yeah…yeah, very exciting," I said. "I didn't realize you were celebrating, or whatever. I guess I'll leave you to it. I was just going to talk to Logan. But um…I'll talk to him later."

"No, it's fine," Rogue said. "I'm gonna go tell everyone. You two talk."

"Are you sure?"

She smiled at me. "Of course. He's still your father; you can talk to him whenever you want."

I gave her a smile. "Thanks."

She gave Logan a kiss before leaving. Once she was gone, I gave him a look. "What?" he asked, sounding annoyed.

"What happened to your whole theory of bad mojo getting put on every woman you marry?" I asked.

"I changed my mind."

"And you didn't _tell_ me?"

"I didn't have to."

"You should have; I tell _you_ everything."

"Even when I don't want you to."

"I'm serious, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you can't keep a secret."

"Yes I can."

"No," she said, "you can't. Not one like this. You'd find some way of lettin' it slip."

"Maybe you're right."

"Maybe?"

"Okay, you _are_ right," I said. "But what made you change your mind?"

"She told me I could marry her or find someone else," he said. "I told you she was stubborn."

I laughed. "Wait…so you didn't _really_ change your mind, she just gave you an ultimatum?"

He gave me a look. He didn't seem to find it so humorous. "I would've lost her one way or another."

I did my best to stop laughing and be serious. "You could have said no and she would have left, or you should propose to her and take your chances with your so-called 'curse' where all of your wives die," I said. "I don't envy you, furry-face."

"What did you need to talk to me about?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.

I walked over and sat down beside him on his bed. "I saw the grandparents of the kid I killed today."

"So that's what's wrong with you."

"Yeah, unlike you who's pissed because your girlfriend tricking you into proposing. Did you get down on one knee?" I asked with a smile.

"She didn't trick me and I ain't pissed."

I studied him for a moment. "You're nervous, aren't you? You're nervous about getting married."

He gave me another look. "This isn't about me. You needed to talk, so talk and get it over with."

"I'd rather talk about you right now. I've never seen you act like this before. I mean…are you _happy_?"

"Yes I'm happy," he growled.

I smiled at him. "Yeah…yeah, that's real convincing there."

"You came here to talk about you, so let's talk about you."

"I'm getting there," I said. I let out a sigh and stared down at my feet. "I saw those people today and it just…it made me realize how good I've got it, you know? Yeah, Bridget hated me and gave me away, but I got a set of parents that took care of me. They weren't awesome, no, but…they gave me a good life as far as, you know, giving me what I needed. Then I found you and you have _never_ let me down. I've got you, my family, I have enough money to be set for the rest of my life and despite my healing gunshot wound and the fact that I can't ever have kids, I _do_ have my health." I shook my head. "I just realized how _really_ freakin' lucky I am."

"So what're you upset about?"

I looked up at him. "That I _am_ upset," I said. "When I lost my memory, I saw everything differently. I saw my life in a completely new light. So that when I got my memory back…I realized how big of a brat I had been."

"I could've told you that."

"I'm serious," I said, but smiled at him. "Everything I have, I took for granted."

"What does that have to do with that kid's grandparents?"

"They didn't have anything. The wife was blind, the husband couldn't work because he had to take care of her, and they were seriously struggling. They lost their daughter, their grandson and their ex-son-in-law in less than…three years, I think. Maybe two, I can't remember. But despite all of that, this man sat across from me and told me that he went to church and he prayed. They had lost everything and he still had faith," I said. "I, on the other hand, have everything I need but complain and whine about everything."

"You're not that bad."

"I'm bad enough," I said. "And I need you to help."

"How?"

"Confess me."

"For what? You quit doin' jobs and you confessed for all the ones you did. What's left?"

"Other things. Can you do it for me? Just one more time."

He nodded. "Yeah, go on."

I took a deep breath. "Forgive me my father for I have sinned. I take you for granted as my father. I don't think about all the things you do for me, what you gave up and continue to give up so that I can live here and have a chance to be happy. I talk back and I'm disrespectful. And for that, I'm truly sorry."

"Kid," Logan said, interrupting me. "You don't need to ask for forgiveness for that."

"Please just…I just need you to confess me. Can you please do that?"

"You don't have to do this."

"Yeah I do," I said. "I have to do it for me."

He ran his hand over his face. "Alright, go on then."

It took me a while, but eventually I confessed everything to him.

Everything I had done to Scott. To Tony. To _him_.

I confessed all the thoughts and feelings I had while my brain was clouded by amnesia.

I confessed and asked for forgiveness for everything _I _had done to hurt my family. For taking a job that made me lie to them and push them away.

Everything I had kept from him, every secret, every lie, I confessed it all.

I poured my heart out to him and in true unconditional love, he kissed my forehead and told me I was forgiven.

And that was all I needed.

When I was done, Logan pulled me into a hug. He held me tight and kissed my forehead.

"I love you, Logan."

"Right back at'cha, kid."

I pulled out of his hug and stood up. Then I gave him a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," I said. "For everything."

He gave me a wink. "Don't worry about it, darlin'."

"I've got some other things to take care of, so I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, alright."

I left his room and walked down the hall until I reached Scott's door. I knocked on it to the tune of 'Shave and A Haircut' without the 'two bits'. I waited as Scott came to answer the door.

"Hey," he said, smiling at me. "Where have you been today?"

"There were some loose ends that needed tying up from the last job I did."

His brow bunched in concern above his glasses. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. I got to do something good today. So…yeah, everything _is_ okay."

"Are you sure?"

I smiled at him and nodded. "I'm sure," I said. "Are you going to let me in or are you going to make me stand out here and talk to you through the door?"

"I'm not sure. Do you know the password?"

"Hmm…" I said, pretending to ponder the thought. "Is this it?" I stood up on my tip-toes and kissed his lips softly. As I pulled away, he was smiling.

"You know, I'm not real sure. You might have to repeat that once more." I laughed and kissed him again, this time letting my lips linger a little longer. "Yeah, I think that might be it."

"Good. Let me in, Slim. We need to talk."

"Why doesn't that sound good?" he asked with a laugh.

"Because you're paranoid," I said, walking into his room. "Where's Lily?"

"At a friend's house," he asked. "Why?"

"Just wondering," I said. "You know, when I lost my memory, I didn't think much about Lily being gone. You said she spent time at her friend's houses because you wanted her to be around kids her own age rather than the high school ones here. But that wasn't the truth, was it?"

He shut his door and leaned back against it. "No, it wasn't."

"She spent a lot of time with them because you were afraid she would realize I couldn't remember her."

"She thinks the world of you. She absolutely adores you. I couldn't let her get hurt."

"I understand that now. I love that kid like she was my own. But before…before I thought you were telling me the truth. I didn't realize you were sending her away to protect her," I said. "Why has she been gone since I've gotten my memory back?"

"She hasn't been gone the whole time."

"No, but quite a bit."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Things changed when you lost your memory."

"I know."

"Our _relationship_ changed."

"There's like, two ways you can go with this conversation and to be quite honest, I'm a little nervous," I joked with a smile.

"Don't be," he said smiling back. "Our relationship has changed for the best."

"Meaning we actually have one now as opposed to being in the weird attracted, best friend limbo."

"Exactly," he said. "And I wanted us to make sure that we had our relationship tacked down before I let her know about it."

"Well," I said, walking closer to him. "I love you, so that bit's tacked down."

He grabbed my hands and pulled me to him. "I love you, too," he said, brushing the hair out of my face.

"So what's left to figure out?"

"Are we really going to do this? We've been dancing around it for eight years and something has always stopped us."

"My age, your wife."

"My grief, your fiancé."

"It's called dramatic buildup, Summers."

He laughed. "I always thought it was called bad timing."

"That too, maybe," I said. "But we're both here now and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work."

"So we're doing it then?"

"As long as you're ready."

His smile spread wide across his face, showing his dimples. "Oh, I've _been_ ready, Rivers," he said, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me all the way to him.

I put my arms around his neck and looked up into his glasses. "I've waited on you for so long," I said, my voice dropping low and becoming serious.

"Was I worth the wait?"

I smiled back up at him, feeling the happiest I had ever felt. "Oh yeah," I said. "It was _well_ worth it."

The End.


End file.
